The Blood Wars: Revelations
by Chrissiemusa
Summary: In a world separated by districts, where children are sent to the arena and chaos lies around every corner, tributes aren't the only ones with scars. A side-fic to "The Blood Wars" Rated T for now. Hunger Games Crossover.
1. The Mentor

AN: Hi everyone, this story is a side-fic to my M rated story Blood Wars, a Hunger Games/Winx Club crossover story. If you haven't read that fic then you may find some of this confusing so I suggest you do and then come back. This fic will be rated T for begin with but this might change in future. I am still open to character or event suggestions, anything you'd like to see from the original reflected on in a little more detail etc let me know.

Thanks go to everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted BW, I really appreciate it :) and hope that you will enjoy this side-fic.

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**The Blood Wars: Revelations**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Winx Club or the Hunger Games, the belong to Iginio Straffi and Suzanne Collins respectively and I am not making any money out of this fan-fiction.**

**Chapter 1**

_**The Mentor**_

"Two tributes may now win if they are both from the same District." Faragonda noticed the change in atmosphere immediately, because although that one line was a blessing for some, it was a curse for others. It was bad enough that she sat inside this one room, at a round table, watching the games unfold before her eyes but to have that announcement, come so out of the blue, just made the mentor sitting to her right, named Sybilla, snap. She threw her headgear to the desk as the screen before her marked two red crosses over Derrick and Galatea's faces, their vital signs gone and the word 'dead' written under their names.

Along the far wall, above the television screens showing the games current participants, were a series of photos in district order of those who remained. The others were faded out, the red crosses mirroring that on their screens. The large table was covered in touch screens, allowing the mentors to track their tributes progress, where they were in the arena, their vital signs and what materials they had at their disposal. All of it was important information and each screen was split in two.

On Faragonda's right she had Flora and on the left she had Helia. At the moment, she had been looking at the two of them, but Helia's recent encounters with other tributes made her focus on him the most while Flora and Musa, who had apparently teamed up, were doing fine at this point in time.

The silence that filled the room since Sybilla's sudden outrage slowly filled each and every corner until it felt like it would choke them all. No one checked their screens, no one looked to each other, some looked to the board and those who only had one tribute left stared at their half lit screens in silent memorial. Sybilla would now have to complete one of the hardest tasks that any of them had to, go down stairs to meet the bodies and organise their transport home to their families. A task that Faragonda had encountered too many times to mention during her years as a mentor and that she never hoped to complete again.

Both Flora and Helia, if they played their cards right, could come out alive and go home but there was still another formidable team in play.

"Well, well, well," a deep and dangerous voice spoke from across the room, making Faragonda raise her head in recognition, feeling the eyes of all the other mentors staring in her direction. The voice belonged to her nemesis, Professor Griffin, who, just days before the games began, had told her that working the crowd wouldn't win the games and that strength was all tributes needed. Now, with both teams alive, and two mentors to prove their strategy would work, the stakes were even higher. "Looks like it's down to you and me, Faragonda."

"I think you're forgetting my tributes as well," a deep male voice spoke to her left, it was Teredor, Layla and Nabu's mentor.

"Please," Griffin scoffed. "You should know that those two star crossed lovers have no chance of winning this."

"Yes they do!" He snapped, standing to his feet and slamming his hands on the desk so hard the screens flickered for a moment. "And they will."

"Playing to the crowd will only get you so far," Griffin explained. "If your tributes can't win without gifts then they are as good as dead the moment they step into the arena." Teredor leaned forwards and pointed in the witches' direction.

"You better watch your tongue," he warned and Griffin laughed as she crossed her arms and leant backwards.

"You know the betting agencies haven't listed any of your tributes, even Flora with her high score hasn't been picked up and the only gift she received was a hand me down from Quantum."

Zarathustra remained silent, though she wanted to blast the arrogant witch into oblivion.

"You know I'm right."

"No you aren't," Faragonda explained, looking down to her screens and earning Griffins gaze.

"Oh really?"

"Yes really, how much screen time have your tributes received? Hardly any, the only time they are ever shown is when they are about to kill someone right, that's the only time. No one has seen Bishop on screen for a good few days now."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm just saying that Teredor's tributes, my own, Mirta, Musa, Galatea and Derrick with their so called 'soft' qualities are what win screen time from Magix. They are the ones who will reap the benefits of any sponsors and who will be remembered far beyond this arena for years to come. Not yours."

"Why you little!"

"BANG!"

Every time the canon sounded Faragonda's heart skipped a beat. It had skipped about three hundred since she first became a mentor and she had heard that sound too many times to remember the exact figure. At one point, after becoming Linphea's only remaining victor, she used to count them. The tributes that not only she but her other mentors had lost over the years. But now she realised that it was hopeless, that there was no way that she could count them all, could relive their deaths over and over again.

The glass of water on Faragonda's desk jumped again as another cannon blast punctuated the silence. Everyone's eyes turned to their screens, wondering whose had been crossed out, who was dead. Then they looked to the wall on the far side and watched Teredor's two tributes, Layla and Nabu, fade from existence.

Griffin crossed her arms and laughed making the mentor from Tides snap. He lunged forwards, threatening to strangle the witch with his bare hands, to kill her, but the soldiers were already inside. They took a hold of his arms and, with a tazer shot, dragged him outside unconscious while the other mentors, still shaken by the sudden turn of events, watched with wide eyes. Faragonda didn't follow and instead redirected her attention to Flora and Helia, whose vital signs showed that their hearts had stopped as well. Their blood pressure had risen with the sudden shock of two canon blasts so close together.

She looked back to the screen to see Musa stumble, to trip as Flora tried to console her. Then the argument. Griffin placed her hands behind her head, listening in on their verbal joust while Faragonda sat quietly, ears tuned to their voices. Musa had made a good point, if she was in the arena she would have probably done the same thing, wondered why her ally hadn't killed her yet. But what Flora said next made her proud. Prouder than all of the tributes that had gone before and fallen to the games ways.

"I am not going to change myself for someone else's amusement." She wasn't falling for the charade, of playing up to the crowd, of wearing fake wedding bands or lying and cheating her way through. She was being true to herself, something difficult to do when every decision you made could end up killing you.

"So Faragonda," Griffin smiled, watching the television screen change to show the hosts sitting at their desk, highlighting key points so far and recapping who had died. "Our two teams are the only ones left now."

"So it seems," Faragonda replied, remaining strong as she watched Flora helping Musa on her monitor. "And we both know who will win."

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Faragonda rubbed her temples with her thumb and forefinger, carefully circling around while the mentor to her left started chewing on their fingernails and Griffin sat in her usual position across from her. While most of the mentors looked stressed out, worried, panicked and thin, worry slowly carving their body into a corpse. Griffin showed none of it. Not a single trace of worry or sadness or anxiety. While Faragonda too had become numb to the loss of tributes, those whose lives have been cut short too soon, but she had never stopped feeling the knot in her stomach or the headache behind her eyes. The monitor in front of her suddenly started beeping as she checked Flora's blood pressure, slowly rising with every second. She turned to the screens, hitting herself for thinking about other things while her life was hanging in the balance. Musa ran forwards, used a shield, protecting her before running to her doom at one of Stella's attacks; then nothing but white.

A canon fired, and all mentors looked to their screens once more. This time she heard crying to her right. Professor DuFour sobbed, her shoulders shaking. Musa's face faded as the guards arrived to take her away. Griffin rubbed her hands together in anticipation but Faragonda ignored her and stood to her feet. She walked past the chairs and guards and took the younger mentor in her arms. DuFour shook; her breathing heavy and quick. Faragonda felt her every fibre of her being shivering against her.

"Thank you," she whispered, whishing she could say those words to Musa herself.

"Win this," DuFour whispered in return before looking to Griffin as the guards started pulling her arms away from her. "Beat that bitch." Faragonda smiled before they lead the District 7 mentor away down the hall.

"Look at that," the familiar voice pointed, making Faragonda turn to see what the cold hearted queen was talking about. Helia stumbled next to Flora and started checking her vitals, distress all over his face while Faragonda watched helplessly. "You didn't tell them to honestly work together did you?"

"Yes I did," she answered. "Because that's how they're going to win."

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**AN: Thanks for reading and please review. Miele will be the focus character for the next chapter if enough people want a second chapter.**


	2. The Sister

**AN: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this first chapter and asked for more :) I changed the cover art for this fic because I thought it would look better, let me know what you think. Here is chapter 2, I hope you like it.**

**Chapter 2**

_**The Sister**_

Miele lay silently in her bed, listening to her mother and Flora discuss something inside their lounge room while a particular spot on the ceiling had caught her attention. Today was the day of the reaping, her first one, and the emotions swirling around her body ignited a flame in her stomach. Not a burning one that threatened to consume her entire being, even though she wanted nothing more than to lie underneath the bed and pray for it to be over. It was a nauseous feeling that grew and grew to the point of pain, making her roll onto her side, clutch her knees to her chest and close her eyes.

The door to their home closed and she knew that Flora must have left for her usual walk in the forest. Then the door opened to her room and her mother Lily walked in. She knelt next to her as Miele opened her eyes. "It's going to be ok," she soothed. "Today's just, another day; there's nothing to worry about alright." Miele nodded as Lily placed a hand on her shoulder.

"That's my girl, come on we should get you something to eat so you can get ready."

* * *

Later that morning Miele sat on the floor, staring at nothing in particular as thousands of thoughts ran around her head. What if she was picked? What if she was taken away from her family? What if she had to kill someone, she didn't want to hurt anyone, and she hated it when her friends at school picked grass from the ground or hit the odd bug with their hand. She was as gentle as a butterfly and just as innocent, hurting others wasn't in her nature. But if she wasn't going to hurt the others than that meant that she would be killed. She'd never see her family again.

Taking a breath outwards her shoulders shuddered and Flora reacted immediately, putting the brush down and kneeling before her. She took hold of her sisters shivering body and Miele leant into her touch, burying her head into her shoulder. "It's going to be okay, Miele. They won't pick you." She consoled, but something was telling her it wasn't true.

It was almost like some kind of sixth sense that she had developed. When their father had been bitten by the snake she suddenly felt sick and told her mother something wasn't right. And it turned out that she was correct. Now the same feeling, the same pain, resonated within her heart and although her older sisters encouraging words had tried to ease it, it hadn't worked. "It's going to be okay. You'll see, once the reaping is over we'll come home with mum and everything will be back to normal." Miele smiled, slightly, trying to relieve the tension building behind her eyes but she had no such luck. The smiled did, however, settle Flora a little who offered her own half-hearted smile. Her thumbs wiped away the tears from her eyes. "Now, let's finish getting you dressed."

Standing in line, her hands slowly sweating and lungs refusing to breathe, Miele waited for the moment her life would change forever. And it did, as her voice echoed around their standing area. The children around her stepped aside, allowing her to pass to the passageway and start for the stairs. Tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes with every step she took, slowly crunching the dirt beneath her shoes. Her arms shook but before she could step up she felt a hand pull her backwards as Flora guarded her using her body.

"I volunteer!" She announced. "Let me take her place!"

When the mayor nodded his head Miele gripped tighter to her sisters legs, stoping her from moving. "Please Flora! No, no you can't go! You said everything would be okay!"

"And it will be I promise."

Miele continued to sob until a guard's strong arms pulled her away from Flora. Her grip slipped as she looked into her older sisters green eyes. 'I love you' Flora mouthed before turning her back and walking up what felt like the never ending staircase while Miele clung to her mother's body and sobbed her heart away.

* * *

"It's time to leave," one guard explained, forcing Miele and Lily out of the Apartment of Goodbyes and off the front porch. They stood, staring at the wood that help their beloved family member beyond before turning and seeing just how many people were congregated. Hundreds stood in a silent vigil and Miele felt her mother's hand touching her arm, silently asking for her strength. She gave it to her, interlocking their fingers as they walked through the passage and to the end, as close to the ship as they could get.

When Flora walked down the rose petal covered pathway Miele was full of dread. Flora was going to the games because of her. If her name hadn't been picked than they both wouldn't be in this situation. The games were going to change everyone and Miele was sure they would change her life forever. Because she didn't know whether her sister was coming home, or if she would ever see her again.

When the two tributes stood at the ship and looked back at the crowd, Miele nodded at Flora, making sure that she remembered the promise she had made. To try and win. Then their interlocked hands rose into the sky and Miele and Lily were the first to follow. When the doors shut and the ship flew into the air, blowing stray hairs away from her eyes, Miele whispered a silent prayer, a prayer of hope, safety and above all Flora's homecoming.

* * *

The morning of the games Miele sat at the table in their dining room, staring at the beautiful meal that she had prepared before her. Toast with butter and jam, an egg and small piece of bacon. Since Flora had volunteered for them they had received bread and local produce from other people in the town, showing them their support. Though, looking at what Flora probably would have called a 'blessing' that 'shouldn't be wasted' made her feel nauseous.

"Miele, sweetie you need to eat something, you haven't had anything to eat for the last few days."

"I'm not hungry." It was the truth, and she emphasised her point by pushing the plate forwards making Lily sigh.

"It's not your fault…you know that right?" Miele remained silent, looking at the mahogany table without a word passing her lips. Her eyes wandered upwards for a moment but returned back down. "It's not your fault…Flora did it because she loves you and she didn't want you to get hurt."

"Because I'm weak," Miele sighed, so softly that Lily missed it.

"What?"

"She only volunteered because she knew that I was weak and that I would never survive the games…if I was stronger…if I was stronger than she wouldn't have had to." Lily reached her hand across the table but Miele looked away from it.

"Miele, Miele look at me!" She did. "This is not your fault, it's not anyone's fault. You didn't know that you name would be called, you only had…you only had your name in there once. It should have been impossible! But it wasn't so it's not your fault. Flora did what she thought was right because she loves you not because she thought you were weak." She paused for a moment as Miele wiped a tear from her eye. Lily got to her feet and walked around the table, taking the young girl into her arms as she knelt by her side. Her daughters chin landed on her shoulder and the cries entered her ears. "Shh," she hushed, placing a hand on the back of Miele's head and smoothing out her hair.

Once the spell was over Miele leant back and looked into her mother eyes, which were also glistening with unshed tears. "You know what Flora would say? If she saw you were wasting food?" Miele nodded before laughing a little. Lily smiled before pulling the plate closer to her again and casting a small but effective heating spell to warm it up again. "Come on, you need your strength, today's going to be a big day."

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The screens hanging on almost every building in the district ignited to life making those who had remained inside their homes venture into the streets to watch. Miele and Lily exited their home with trepidation in their every limb, and the recognition on others faces told them that they were scared to. Every year Lily had seen child after child enter that ship and never return, be beaten and bloodied and killed right before her eyes, but now it was her own daughter. Miele's sister. Their world had been turned upside down. Miele lifted her head and saw an older man standing by himself further away from the group, his eyes carried the same worry that theirs did and so she walked towards him. Clouds above began to rain water on those below, but no one moved. "Miele!" Lily called, following her daughter through the crowd until they reached him. Miele reached forwards and took a hold of his hand and he offered a kind smile.

"I'm sorry, she's just scared."

"Aren't we all," the older man answered, offering his other hand to Lily. "I don't think we have formally met before, my name is Saladin."

"Lily," she replied, taking a firm grasp before looking down to Miele. "This is my daughter Miele."

"You are Flora's family correct?" He asked and she nodded her head. Silence filled the space for a moment before he spoke.

"I am Helia's." Lily's head whipped in his direction as he gave a kind smile. "This is going to sound strange," he began. "But I'm kind of glad that someone else if feeling as anxious as I am right now."

"Me too."

"Let the games begin!" The Ancestral Witches spoke, vision from the inside of the Magical Reality chamber showing all twenty four tributes standing on their platforms. They went through them all, one after another, until District 12 was announced. The entire district held their hands to the sky, feeling the odd drop of water from heaven on their fingers. "The games will begin in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4…" Miele felt both adults grip on her hands increase as the countdown neared its end.

"3…"

"2…" Her eyes were trained on Flora so intently that she didn't blink.

"1…"

The canon fired and every heart and eye leached onto the screen, wanting to see what was happening in the middle of chaos. Miele watched intently, her eyes searching desperately for Flora's figure but she couldn't see her. Then the cameras focused on Rose impaling her sword through Troy before a dagger hit Sponsors in the eye, killing him instantly.

Silent tears rolled down Miele's cheeks as Lily knelt by her side and pulled her into an embrace, hoping to shield her innocence from such catastrophe. She squirmed around though and looked back to the screen. "Miele look away."

"Where's Flora? I can't see her."

"That could be a good thing; it means she got away from it all." Kylar's arm was cut off and Miele turned away, moments later Saladin exclaimed, "I see her!" Miele refocused on her sister. Flora was running, she managed to grab the backpack and made a sprint into the woods. "She's safe," Lily articulated as Miele pushed her head into her mother's shoulder, breathing in her scent and hoping with all of her might that she would be ok. One part of her wished that Flora was safe, but the other part of her knew the truth… the games had only just begun.

Lily shushed the young innocent before looking up at Saladin who was standing as still as a statue before her. "Helia?" she asked and he shook his head.

"I can't see him."

"That could be good news."

"Or bad," he replied when the canons stared to fire, one after another. Miele counted them, five in total before the heavens opened and rain poured. Several families ran back into their homes but Lily, Miele and Saladin all remained, waiting for the sun to disappear from the horizon and the sky's orange hue to become purple.

The stars didn't shine that night and the candle Miele held in her hands as the rain eased to nothing did not offer the smallest hope of warmth. The Anthem started to play and the Tribute of Honour display began.

_District - Diaspro_

_District 2 - Kylar_

_District 5 - Sponsis_

_District 6 - Troy_

_District 10 - Andy_

After the faces of the dead faded and the music did the same Miele felt instant relief spread through the entire community. Their tributes were still alive which gave them the hope of a new victor but the dread of what was sure to be one of the most life changing games they would ever know.

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**AN: Thanks for reading and please review!**


	3. The Friend

**AN: Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story thus far. Writers block has been starting to take its toll but I managed this chapter just before it stopped me completely. Please take a look at the ending authors note and enjoy :)**

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**Chapter 3**

_**The Friend**_

It was a gorgeous summer's day in Quantum. The sun shone beautifully overhead, slowly embalming the world below with its familiar glow and the sight made Mirta smile as she sat up in bed and looked out her bedside window. A knock on the door sounded and she looked to her left to see her father. He was a tall man with the same magenta hair that she had, only a lot longer and tied back into a single ponytail away from his face. A short trimmed beard framed his face and his green eyes dazzled.

"I'm off to the shop; can I get you to give Riven his lunch for me? He's in the far field; a tree fell over the neighbour's property so he's chopping the wood."

"Sure." Mirta nodded, before flinging off her sheets. She heard the sound of her father's hover bike charge into gear before he sped off down the path, heading for the city. Quantum was by no means a large city; in fact it was rather small in comparison to some others. But its population and weapon production skills were renowned throughout the galaxy.

Inside the metal mills around Mirta's home, swords, armour and knives were crafted by hand, metal cut, heated, beaten and cooled until perfect. They had a quota to meet thanks to the Ancestral Witches demands, and many of the men and women who crafted blades, worked on sword hilts or heated metalchest plates, had to spend weeks on end inside the shops without a single moments break. Her father was lucky, after an accident at work that nearly killed him he managed to take over a weapon retailer that focused on holo weapons and selling to other nations. His communication and combat skills were second to none and Mirta's older brother Riven had started taking lessons from him when he was as young as six.

They used to practice for long hours outside around the property, throwing knives, using swords, shield, and physical combat. Mirta wasn't interested and, instead of working in the machinery factories, she worked at a local food stall, making sandwiches and delivering lunches to the workers, sometimes getting lucky enough to eat something herself.

Rather than riding a hover bike like her father or brother she rode a push bike through the city streets like many children under the age of eighteen. On her birthday she would be given the bike of her dreams, one that she had already picked out. A red, sleek designed, lightweight mobile that would match the black leather jacket she had been given for her fifteenth birthday by her father and brother.

Mirta's mother had been out of the picture since Mirta was born. She disappeared one day, left the house and never came back and they had all assumed that she just didn't want the kids anymore. Riven had always been wary of women since then and trusting them was not an option. Their father had drunk a lot in those early days but Riven worked hard to put food on the table and to keep their father together. His drinking habits caused a sword that he thought he had hung up on an overhead running line so it could be transported to the next station hadn't been hung correctly and, before he knew it, it fell down and sliced his chest open.

Luckily the medical system and, because of their previous ability to meet the quota by more than required, meant that the best surgeons were available to save his life. He had made a better effort to be a good father since then, something Mirta was proud of.

After scrambling to each some breakfast she got dressed in her usual black skirt, leggings, white t-shirt, black vest and red converse before locking the door behind her and heading off on her bike. Riding into town was always an interesting experience, mostly because of how the environment changed the closer you got to the central town. Back home there were hundreds of hectares, forests full of wood that was cut and used to create spears and other weapons. Magical ones were housed in another warehouse closer to the city while the armoury was nearer to her own home. Travelling into work she passed seven houses total, each one with a letter above their door for easy identification.

Passing the Sword district the supervisor smiled and gave her a wave from the door. "Mornin' Mirta," he greeted in his usual slur. "How'ya been this mornin'?"

"Good thanks Mr. Peterson," she smiled, slowing to the door and greeting some of the other workers. Walking through the benches were some of the kids from her school, each one contributing to the effort. School only went for two hours in their district, the rest of the time was hands on experience. "Can I get yer to place n' order for me?"

"Sure," Mirta replied, whipping out her notepad and writing the letter C under the warehouse tag.

"What can I get for you?"

"Sandwiches, enough for the warehouse crew. Half of them chicken if possible, rest of em' ham or salad, whatever you n' the other ladies can whip up." Mirta nodded, taking the note before ripping a receipt and passing it back to him.

"How's ya dad doin'? heard there was a nasty storm last night."

"No property damaged on our side, out neighbour got hit worse; a tree fell over the fence. Riven's over there now working on getting it fixed." Mirta explained and he nodded.

"Good t' hear," he replied, his white hair blowing in the gentle breeze that made the entire factory stop working for a moment; just one moment to enjoy the cooler temperature inside the usually hot, humid and sweaty interior. When it passed the work resumed and Mirta took it as her cue to leave. "Well I better go, lunch doesn't deliver itself you know."

"No it doesn' have a good day!"

"You too," Mirta hollered over her shoulder, wheeling down the concrete path. Entering the central city she waited at a set of lights before they turned green and let her pass. Continuing through the streets on her way she rode through the Town Square and looked around worriedly. This was there the reaping was held each and every year. In the middle of such a vibrant, beautiful and industrial city, this was their black mark. Just stopping inside this square made Mirta feel sick, especially since their days to the reaping were counting down and the games would begin soon. They're yearly reminder for The Blood Wars, their resistance against the Ancestral Witches and their commands.

Mirta looked to the towering building, the front stairs, and she wondered how their leaders could even walk through the doors before feeling nauseous. But she decided it was best to keep moving and so she pushed her foot against the ground and continued to her destination.

Arriving at work she was greeted by the other ladies. There were some young girls from school helping to prepare the meals. "Mr. Peterson ordered on the way in!" She announced, adding the order to the others as their supervisor, a young woman named Sue, checked it all over and ordered them around.

* * *

After a few hours of hard work Mirta made a single sandwich for Riven, packed it into a lunch bag and put it into her bike before riding to their neighbour's property. Through the gates, up a hill, and she saw the gigantic tree that had come down in the storm. Then she saw Riven sitting down next to it, taking a break. His back was covered with sweat and he had taken his shirt off to keep cool. Wiping his brow as he poured water over his head, Mirta arrived. "Hey, big brother!" She smiled, arriving by his side.

"Are you crazy?" He asked.

"Why?"

"Wearing black in this weather?"

"No I just like how it looks. Plus you shouldn't be the one to lecture, you're the one who'd rather get skin cancer than wear a shirt when he's working in the sun."

"It's either this or die of heat exhaustion," he joked before standing to his feet. "What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have work?"

"Yeah but Dad asked me to bring you this," she replied, handing him a sandwich which he took hungrily before sitting back down on the ground and ushering her to his side. She took a seat next to him, picking up a loose piece from the branch that formed a Y shape. Biting into the salad Riven chewed quietly for a moment before looking at the piece of wood. Swallowing he spoke. "You know, that would make a pretty good slingshot."

"I guess," she sighed, looking back to the grass.

"What's wrong?" He asked simply, knowing that Mirta had a tendency to change her mood rather quickly on occasion. "It's just…the reaping."

"Don't worry about it-"

"But I can't help it! It's coming so fast and, everyone in town knows it but they're not saying it." She looked into his purple eyes. "They all know that…I'll be going into the arena."

"No they don't," he shook his head, passing her the other half of his sandwich. "And neither do you. Just because you're name is in the bowl the most number of times doesn't mean-"

"Yes it does. It means I have more of a chance of getting picked, more of a chance of going to the arena and dying - all because I took so many damn rations."

"Hey you took those because you wanted to help others," Riven interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Look at me." She did, lifted her gaze to meet his. "Never feel ashamed of doing what you did. You putting your name into that bowl more times saved a lot of families from starvation. It helped to get more bread rations for your work, so they could help the workers meet the quota. Otherwise you know what could have happened." She nodded, remembering all too well what the world was like during those dark days where food, water and medical supplies were cut off to all districts. Hundreds died of disease or starvation, people fought each other for food and their King had no choice but to sign the treaty. It was their only hope.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't be scared, I mean we all are about being picked and forced to kill each other for entertainment, but at least if you have to go, you can hold your head high." Mirta nodded her head ever so slightly before Riven nudged the sandwich under her chin again, trying to get her to eat something. With a smile she finally gave in. After finishing the meal the two sat quietly, feeling a cool breeze blow through their hair. "I better get going." Mirta sighed. "I'll see you at home?"

"Yeah," he nodded, watching her mount her bike and leave. Looking down to his right he picked up the piece of wood she had been so carefully inspecting and placed it into his back pocket before chopping the rest of the wood.

* * *

The day of the reaping Mirta left her home on her brother's bike. Their father rode beside them into the central square where they were forced to sign in. Riven signed himself in at the desk, being all too used to the process. It was his last year of eligibility while it was Mirta's fourth. Once signed they walked to their areas and waited. Mirta felt sick to the pit of her stomach but she hid it well. Their dad stood to the side, he looked calm enough even though the sheen from the sun on his forehead was enough to show the truth-he was scared out of his wits.

A young man named Dorian came out and started the draw. He talked about the games and they all were forced to hear their annual history lesson. Mirta could see the youngest ones listening intently, but most were crying. She had become somewhat numb to the whole ordeal. "Welcome everyone. I think we will do the ladies first." Walking to the bowl he placed his hand inside and…sure enough…Mirta's name was called.

She looked down to her feet as she walked towards the stage, Riven and her father's eyes watching her every move. "Our first tribute is that of Mirta!" A few people clapped but most didn't. The people that teased her at school looked remarkably happy while the people she worked with and the families she had saved through her sacrifices were sad.

"Now to the guys." Dorian walked to the boys bowl, placed his hand inside and picked up a slip of paper. Opening it he reached the microphone. "Our male tribute is…Riven!" Riven didn't react as badly as Mirta. He walked to the stage, noticing the shock written all over her face. How was it possible for the two of them to be picked?

Mirta had no idea what to think, her breathing became quick and staggered as she looked to her father's own disbelieving eyes. Mr. Peterson placed a hand on his arm but he shook it away. Having one child picked for the arena was bad enough, let alone two.

They were both lead off stage and into the Town Hall where their father would soon see them. Unlike District 12 they did not have the luxury of separate areas. "Riven," Mirta sighed, looking to her brother as tears slid down her cheeks. He moved to her side and held her inside his arms. Mirta's own hands squeezing around his abdomen and clinging to his back. "H-How?" She stammered as she looked up to him.

"How isn't important-"

"Yes it is! What did you do? Why are you doing this?"

"Mirta I need you to listen to me... We need to enter the arena as tributes, not brother and sister. No one can know that we are related by blood."

"So I have to ignore you?"

"No," he shook his head. "But you need to keep yourself together, treat me as a partner. I won't hang around you all the time but I'll watch you from afar. I'll help you get home."

"B-but…that means that you-"

"I know," he nodded before taking something out of his back pocket and handing it to her. It was the wooden piece she had admired just days before, when they shared a moment outside under the sun, instead of inside this lifeless place. A slingshot, with her name engraved on it, he had carved it for her by hand. "It will keep you safe and remind you that I'm always there…ok?" She nodded sadly, burying her head in his chest before the guards separated them into different rooms. "I love you, Riven."

"I love you too."

The doors closed with a bang and Mirta couldn't help but collapse to the floor. She was not just going to the arena but the brother she loved was willing to sacrifice himself to save her. When her father burst through the door and onto his knees, bundling her into his arms as she wept, she stole all the strength he had to give. Because, for some uncertain reason, Mirta knew she wasn't coming home.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and please review. I hope you liked it.**

**Question: Which of the following characters should the next chapter focus on?**

a) Musa

b) Griffin

c) Rose

d) Bloom and Daphne

Please respond through Review or PM.

I am still open for suggestions, if there is a character that you want to see a reflection on please let me know through Review or PM. All suggestions are accepted :) You can also vote for which character you want inside my profile through the Poll question. Characters that have already been written on thus far (Faragonda, Miele and Mirta) will be removed from the list.


	4. The Witch

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and voted. I think you'll be able to figure out who is the character focus for this chapter based on the title :) I wrote this chapter pretty quickly and got inspired. Please read the ending authors note and enjoy.**

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**Chapter 4**

_**The Witch**_

It had been a long and tiring day for Griffin but she still remained at her post, poised before her screens, only taking the odd break for coffee or a sandwich. Like Faragonda she had seen one mentor after another escorted away to arrange the bodies and she was determined not to be one of them. She had been a mentor for the last three years, working hand in hand with other tributes, helping to train them, provide them with intelligence and tell them the best way to win, and it usually involved strength.

Being a witch she obviously had powerful capabilities, she could charm her way to freedom, use spells or potions, mix ingredients together in the middle of the night or cast magic at her opponents. It had helped her tremendously when she won the games herself. But now she was almost powerless to stop what played before her eyes. All she could do was organise gifts, and hope that her tributes had followed her advice.

Faragonda released a yawn from the other side of the table. "Not getting tired are you?" Griffin asked. "The games aren't finished yet."

"I know," Faragonda replied, sitting back in her seat. "But they are for one of your little prodigy's."

"Darcy was a liability anyway, an unstable character."

"No she wasn't." Griffin looked directly into her eyes, narrowing her own as Faragonda smiled ever so slightly.

"Darcy knew what she was doing; it was why she made it so far in the games. It was her decisions that were her downfall and your little battle strategy."

"Which is what exactly?" The witch's arms folded as an inquisitive eyebrow lifted slightly into the air, demanding to know the fairies little theory. "Enlighten me."

"The problem with your plan Griffin is you believe in the 'every man for himself' mentality; that when a tribute gets into the arena they should stay alone and fight to survive by themselves. But that doesn't work in all arenas and for all tributes."

"It did when I was in the arena," she explained simply. "You might have felt the need to befriend a few weaklings but debt is not something paid lightly inside the games and besides, I'm sure that stepping over others and hiding behind them was an easier way to win for you." Faragonda stood to her feet and Griffin followed, guards were poised to stop them. "At least I won on my own merit, without using others as human shields or hiding away at the edge of the arena and winning by shire luck."

"I did not use anyone for my personal gain."

"Yeah you did," Griffin smiled. "And, because your little theory worked for you, you have been trying to push it onto others. After all, it was your partner in the arena that ended up sacrificing himself to save you." Faragonda looked away and it made the witch push further. "Hagen."

"Don't even say his name."

"Why not?"

"Because you have no right, you didn't know him."

"But you did," Griffin smirked, enjoying the way her nemesis's hands shook as she reached to adjust her glasses, the fear and opening of wounds buried inside her eyes. She couldn't help but enjoy it. "You knew him very well if I remember. The two of you were thick as thieves-"

"Stop it!"

"Always holding hands…" Griffin continued. "And smiling to the cameras and talking about sacrificing yourselves for each other," she gushed. "If I didn't know better, and others didn't as well, you'd think that the two of you had fallen in love or something." Faragonda moved from her chair but the guards restrained her immediately, holding her arms and shoulders to stop her advance.

"I think you need to cool off," one guard decided, moving her towards the door as Zarathustra followed with a sympathetic gaze. There were just three of them left now. Zarathustra, frequently referred to as Zara for short, who was Mirta and Riven's mentor, Griffin and Faragonda; three mentors and four tributes.

The moment she was escorted out of the room Griffin walked to the back table where an arrangement of refreshments was always ready and stocked. Picking up an apple she bit into the crisp skin, enjoying the juice against her tongue with a satisfying smile. She did love the District games, but even more so when she knew she would win.

* * *

When Faragonda returned to the room she didn't make eye contact with the witch but instead focused on her table monitors, only adding to the witches' happiness. Everything she had said was true though. She had been picked by the reaping's in District 8 when she was 18, just one year after Faragonda had won at the same age and had watched the few previous years and analysed and learnt. So when she was called up she wasn't as worried as her fellow tribute, a young man by the name of Jethro, who had shoulder length black hair, amazing green eyes and a thin but muscular frame.

There was no mentor when they were sent, no one to guide them, tell them what to do. They had an escort certainly who told them the rules but they worked for Magix until they decided to employ servants and make the whole ordeal more suited to entertainment. It was another form of punishment. Those that had managed to win their way out of the Ancestral Witches clutches ended up as mentor. Ended up having to work closely with and watch their tributes die. Radius, the man who had been sitting inside the room just before, had won the very first year of the games through brute force and it wasn't until a few years later that they were blessed with another victor. He had been mentor for more years than any of them and the entire experience had weighed heavily on his shoulders. Every year that Griffin had seen him he had lost a little more of his life. His eyes grew a little heavier; his focus grew a little lighter.

Griffin was the first to win from her own district before another young man did just a few short years after her at the age of fourteen. But, like other victors of the games, he decided to take his life and escape from the horrors of the world. Griffin supposed that her being a born and bred witch from a dark district like Whisperia had made her ready for the bloodshed of the games. Though, in her naivety at starting inside the arena, had attempted to team up with Jethro in order to work hard and win together as a team, or at least to knock out their competition. Though, his attempt to slit her throat in her sleep certainly was a swift way to end their arrangement.

And, since that one bad experience nearly cost her her life, she hadn't teamed up with anyone since and told her tributes to do the same. 'Win by yourself, fight by yourself and survive by yourself.' Obviously, Darcy's little idea to team up with Stella in order to kill Amentia had worked because she knocked out a strong target, but it had backfired the moment that she went into that cave.

Suddenly Griffin heard the tributes heart monitors beeping rapidly and she looked down to see that Bishops respiratory rate was increasing. Her eyes looked to the darkened screen to see the tributes running. He was coming in fast from the back corner towards the Tree of Life. She noticed Zara's reaction as well, her eyes glued to the screen. Then both young men stopped.

They stared each other down before readying their weapons and fighting. Griffin watched the two, willing Bishop to keep on going though he stopped and spoke the truth. No matter who won, Flora and Helia would kill the survivor. With the arena deleted there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. And that was the precise moment that Faragonda took to turn and face Griffin with a knowing and almost victorious gaze.

Bishop managed to impale him but Flora's interruption cost him his life. The canon fired and guards filled the room. She didn't move. "No wait!" She ordered, looking back to see Riven die, the canon fired to signify his death as well. Flora and Helia had won but no one moved. For twenty minutes Faragonda waited for the announcement while the other two also waited to see who had won.

Then the announcer came on, their voice echoing around the room. "Attention tributes, attention tributes. The rule change regarding their being two victors allowed has been revoked. Only one of you may now win. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favour." Faragonda's face fell while Griffins rose. The guards took a forceful hold of her arms, moving her towards the door while Faragonda watched her two tributes breaking apart. Zara was lead out first; and down the corridor while Griffin spoke. "I hate to say I told you so…but I told you so."

She walked out of the main doors and into the corridor, following Zara as they were lead down two flights of stairs and into the basement. She was given the papers to sign, and Zara did the same. "When will they arrive home?" Zara asked.

"By tomorrow," a male answered. "We're having the fleets bring out the bodies for burial; they'll already be inside the caskets ready to go. The various district graves have already been prepared." Griffin signed and dated the last piece of paper before receiving a bar-coded stamp on her wrist. "You are both free to return home. A shuttle will take you there in ten minutes. Gather your belongings."

* * *

After walking down to her room Griffin turned on the television, expecting to see Flora or Helia standing victorious but instead she saw the opposite. The two held Nightlock in their hands. They threw the berries into their mouths and were declared victorious. She took a moment to sit on the couch, watching the two hug before walking to their platforms and being transported back out. She could hear the crowds cheering from outside already inside her ears and wondered how much of a mess they had created.

"Mentor Griffin, it's time to go." A man spoke at the door and she nodded, turning the television screen off and gathering her belongings. She arrived inside the quad and had the barcode scanned before she boarded the ship with a few other officials and Zara, ready to transport them home. The ship took off and she peered outside the glass at the world below, the thousands of people crowding the streets, their cheers and shrieks and screams still breaking through the confined space. Then she saw them, two beds, being escorted outside with Faragonda between the two. They were loaded into separate ambulances to be taken to Magix hospital for treatment. She remembered her own trip there all too well.

The screens around the arena continued to show action replays and one particular slow motion shot of the two holding hands made the witch cringe. She could already hear Faragonda's voice inside her head. 'Because that's how they are going to win'. And you know what hurt the most? The damn fairy was right.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and please review! I love hearing your thoughts.**

**Question: Which of the following characters should be next chapters focus?** (Feel free to vote for more than one. If you did not vote for Griffin in the last chapter than your previous votes still count towards this question but it's an opportunity for you to vote for them again or for another option)

1. Musa

2. Stella

3. Saladin

4. Bloom and Daphne

5. Rose


	5. The Avox

AN: Thanks everyone for voting. The spot for this chapter was a tie between Bloom and Daphne and Musa so I decided that, considering the events of the final chapter for BW, I would write the two sisters for chapter 5 and Musa for chapter 6. I'd like to thank you all for reading and reviewing, I'm still calling them reviews even if the site changes them to 'comments' :)

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**Chapter 5**

_**The Avox**_

Daphne held Bloom close to her as they ran through the streets of Sparx, aiming for their home. Airships flew overhead, the whirling of their motors blowing debris around their feet before others dropped their cargo. One landed particularly close to the two sisters and it exploded, causing them both to fly to their right and land in a heap. Daphne opened her eyes first and heard nothing but ringing in her ears as she pulled Bloom's arm over her shoulder and ran down another street. Passing another two rows to her destination she paused at another and dived into the now vacant house, as soldiers passed the doors and windows, black weapons shining in her face.

"Bloom, wake up," she called quietly, tapping her young sisters face but she received no response. Her eyes remained closed and one of her ears had a thin line of blood falling from it. She had probably burst both eardrums when the bomb blew and now both sisters were covered with black ash. Realising that staying in one place for too long probably wouldn't be best, she peered outside the door both ways before helping drag her towards the palace, hoping that their mother and father would be there to greet them, to take them in and shelter them from the storm, to protect them.

But the witches would not let that happen. Daphne neared the main gates and saw her mother leaning out of the window as others jumped, trying to escape what was coming their way. She saw her, Miriam, pointing at her two daughters before pointing away, pointing somewhere to her right. Daphne looked through the trees and then back, shaking her head as tears streamed from her eyes. Then it happened. Three ships from overhead flew towards the palace and dumped their load, causing a massive explosion that sent Daphne tumbling once more, right into the field. She landed on something hard and realised what it was.

Inside the grass, hiding just above the earth, was a ring and she pulled on it, bringing up a door that lead to an underground cavern. Watching the palace crumble and fire escape every part of the mansion she once called her home, she dragged Bloom inside and closed the door behind them with a bang.

Cradling her sister's head against her chest, Daphne sat alone in the cavern, crying and shuddering as each explosion from above sounded through her ears. Until it became white noise and slowly they stopped. One final bang echoed in the distance before the airships motors faded into the distance and Daphne's world with them.

The Blood Wars; that was what she heard her father call it, when he talked with other district leaders, when he told them that they needed to fight for their rights and defeat them once and for all. And now the true meaning of the title resounded inside Daphne's ears, even more so when she finally emerged.

Pushing up against the metal door she peered out across the landscape and saw nothing. The entire city that she had just been running through with Bloom over her arm had been flattened to ash and bodies littered the ground. She heard groans, the calls of the doomed, and the dead, those who had been wounded badly inside the battle but not badly enough to kill them, those who were still suffering. She wanted to help, it was her natural instinct, but then she saw soldiers. They walked through the rubble, towards people who begged for mercy, for pity, and it was spat back in their face by a bullet.

Shutting the door once more, Daphne used a small amount of her magic to create an orb of fire; it shone around the room and lead to another passage way that had been blocked. She suspected that it lead to the palace and, as much as she wanted to go and see whether her mother or father were alive, she knew the truth. Trying to find out could get them killed. So she didn't and instead decided to try getting Bloom to open her eyes once more before finding them any water or food supplies that could tide them over until she was sure that it was safe. Or at least as safe as it could be.

After twenty minutes Bloom's eyes finally opened and she rolled to her side, clutching her hands to her head in pain before Daphne knelt by her. "Hey, you're going to be ok," she sighed, holding a bottle of water she found in a box of emergency supplies at the back of the bunker and a couple of Panadol. It would barely touch the pain but at least it was something. Bloom took the two pills in her small hands before placing them in her mouth and swallowing. "Where are we?" She asked quietly.

"We're in a bunker, mother pointed to it."

"So mum is alive?" Daphne didn't know what to say so she just shook her head from side to side and the tears that filled Bloom's eyes were her sign of acknowledgement and acceptance. Daphne pulled the ten year old into her arms as she cried, smoothening down her hair and trying to be strong. It was a dark day when district thirteen was destroyed, an even darker day when they were found.

* * *

It had been two weeks according to Daphne's tracking of the sun and markings on the walls. Two weeks since they had hid and, as far as she could tell, most of the soldiers had left and given up hope of finding survivors to kill. So, with their supplies running low and their health slowly deteriorating, she decided now was the time for them to get some vitamin D and venture outside. The sun was the first thing that hit Daphne's face when she lifted the door to their hide-away and carefully she climbed the ladder up, looking around before ushering Bloom to follow. The two girls walked through the now city of ash and checked homes on the way, desperately searching for something. The sky was grey, a mixture of the still burning fires and smoke along with clouds that covered the sun and soon it began to rain.

The two girls ran back towards their bunker only to see that it was full to the very top and staying in it would be like living in a small swimming pool. So they ran towards a house that was still half standing and held each other for warmth, waiting for the rain to subside. But it didn't. They both drank the water that fell from above but, without food, they were weakening. Their bodies were growing thin, their eyelids were growing heavy and, before Daphne knew it, both she and Bloom felt like they were going to die.

They sat inside an abandoned, half destroyed home with just enough roofing to protect them from the wet water as they shivered with cold. Daphne felt Blooms breathing become shallow and her body slowly growing limp. She knew that she had no choice. At least if she did what she needed to then they would die quickly, instead of suffering like they were now. Daphne lifted her right hand, as high as she could and released a blast of magic that blew the roof a few yards away and fireworks beamed in the sky. She continued to shoot them, over and over, creating a signal fire, a distress call, to whoever she could, hoping that they would find them.

And, after almost all of her magic depleted, she heard it; the sound of an airship passing overhead, and footsteps running towards her. She opened her eyes, looked to the young woman standing before her with gun raised and waited for the end. But it never came.

* * *

The next thing she knew she had opened her eyes and was inside a glass box. Panic rose in her chest as she placed her hands on the glass, trying to push the material away before she turned and saw Bloom next to her doing the same. She opened her mouth to say her name... but nothing came, her tongue wasn't working properly - she couldn't speak. She looked to the panel on her right that said "Avox no. 2293" and Blooms was "Avox no. 2294".

Then they saw someone, walking along the passage way before them. She paused between the two, looked to the guard and nodded her head, pointing their way. The guard used a code on her arm keypad and the glass doors opened. They fell out onto the ground before other guards lifted them to their feet and walked them towards an awaiting airship. Bloom looked over her shoulder, trying to figure out what happened, why her hair had suddenly grown so long and why the two of them couldn't remember a thing. All Daphne did was nod, offer her kind eyes that told her to remain calm and follow what was happening until they had a chance to figure it out. And before they knew it they were escorted outside into the sun and loaded onto an airship where they each took a seat at the centre table.

The main door opened and the same woman that had selected them walked and sat at the desk. She took out two pieces of paper and two pens, setting them before them. "My name is Faragonda," she greeted. They each seized the pens and wrote their names, pushing them towards her. "Bloom and Daphne?" They nodded before Daphne pointed to her mouth and opened it.

"You have both been spelled by the Ancestral Witches to become an Avox. It's a servant who has no ability to talk." The sisters exchanged a glance before turning back. "I know that this is all very confusing, you were only ten and twelve respectively when you were found inside the ruins of district thirteen. Since then you have been inside a suspended state." Daphne pulled her paper closer before she wrote something. 'How long?'

"District thirteen was destroyed twenty two years ago." Faragonda saw the hurt and confusion in their eyes; they couldn't understand how they could both look so young when it had been so long. "You have been in suspension for twenty one years but, because of the nature of the magical suspension you have aged three times slower than average human or magical beings, you have only physically and mentally grown seven years older. That makes you Daphne nineteen years of age and you Bloom are seventeen." She paused, watching the two admire their new bodies with bumps and curves that they didn't have before.

"I know that it will take a while for you to adjust to this but the reason that I selected you both is because my previous Avox's, who I have had since they were first introduced to me twenty years ago, have died. And I need two new people to help me escort tributes to the arena. And I'd like it to be you." The sisters looked to each other again before they nodded, agreeing to help Faragonda with what she needed. Bloom reached over the table and pulled her paper closer before scribbling something down and passing it back to Faragonda who smiled a little when she read it. "Who are tributes and what is the arena?"

* * *

The two girls had been by Faragonda's side for three years when Flora and Helia were called and the moment that Bloom opened her mouth to tell Helia to help Flora it was a dream come true. Bloom turned to face her sister and Daphne smiled before running towards her. The two young women embraced before Bloom whispered in her ear. "I don't know how this is possible…but I love you Daph, I love you so much and I haven't been able to say it for such a long time." Daphne leant backwards, taking her sisters face between her hands and shaking her head. "It does matter," Bloom replied. "You saved me when I was a kid, you protected me for so long and I owe you my life… my everything." This time Daphne shook her head before placing a hand over Bloom's heart and then on her own. The sign made tears appear in Blooms eyes before she hugged her sister again.

They heard a cry escape the confines of Flora's room and both of them walked to the door, peering inside to see Helia sitting underneath the shower, holding Flora to his body. He kissed her forehead softly before Bloom stepped inside and knelt before her, Daphne watched closely with somewhat saddened eyes. Though she was happy for her sister she wished that she too had been free of this quiet existence. Flora's reaction to Bloom's ability to speak made her happy before Faragonda walked into the room and their meeting began.

Daphne was quiet throughout the ordeal, she didn't make a single sound and most of what Faragonda spoke about flew over her head until Bloom grabbed her hand suddenly and turned to Flora, snapping her from her daze. "Please Flora, could you try to heal Daphne of her silencing spell as well. I know that mine was done by accident but this could be a way to test your new powers." Flora looked to Faragonda who nodded in allowance before she took a hold of the older sister's hand. Flora's eyes closed and Daphne desperately wished that she would be free, wished that she would be able to speak again and tell her sister the words she so desperately needed to after all these years. A light, almost stardust series of particles flew over Daphne's body and, when they stopped, she opened her eyes and looked to the eyes burrowing into her.

She parted her lips as Bloom placed a comforting hand on her own and she finally spoke. "Hi." Two letters made a world of difference and Bloom held her sister in her arms, overcome with joy. The meeting finished and the two of them left Helia and Flora to their own devices before going to their room.

Each one sat on the bed across from each other and Daphne took her sisters hands firmly in her own. "Bloom, you mean everything to me. And you don't owe me a thing because I am here for you forever, though thick and thin through danger and joy. It's my job."

"Daphne… Thank you. I don't think I could have made it through any of this without you." She smiled before nodding her head. "I couldn't either Bloom... I couldn't either."

"But we have to be careful right?" The red headed fairy asked and Daphne nodded softly.

"Yeah, we can't use our magic or our voices around others and we need to make sure that no one finds out that we can talk otherwise we'll be in a lot of trouble and so will Fara." Bloom nodded.

"But the games are over, aren't they?" Daphne wished she could say yes but the truth was the very opposite. "No Bloom… the games have only just begun."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and please review :)**


	6. The Comrade

**AN: I apologise for the delay in posting this chapter. I have been busy working on the sequel The Blood Wars II and have had writers block. Thanks to everyone for their reviews and support so far, I really appreciate it. I will be returning to study for the semester as well so updating time will be slower but I hope that you'll bear with me. ****As always please enjoy :) **

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**Chapter 6**

_**The Comrade**_

"Musa hide now!" Hoboe yelled making her run down the corridors as men yelling and screaming their way through the house started behind them. She reached her room, looking for an appropriate place before hitting the deck and climbing underneath her bed. Her father tripped in the doorway and that was enough for the young men following to get him. They used bats and fists and pummelled into his skin while Musa was helpless and could do nothing more than watch. She held her hands over her mouth to stifle the screams that threatened to fall and, when they were finally satisfied that the house was empty, the men left. They raided their medicine cupboard, stole buckets of their water and food from the cupboards, leaving Musa with nothing but a broken heart, scared eyes and a dead father.

When their voices left the room she crawled out with shaking limbs and reached his side, the white carpet now a deep scarlet red. She shook his shoulders in a tireless effort to make him awaken but nothing worked. He was gone. "D-Dad!" She sobbed, shoulders quaking as she held his hand in her own and placed it against her cheek, now soaked with tears. "D-Don't leave me," she begged. "Don't leave me."

DuFour ran through the streets as panicked men raided the nearby houses. She had made it out quickly enough to see her friend's home was next on the street. Quickly she ran, past the crowds, past the screams towards their apartment complex, praying that they had escaped unscathed. Bursting through the front door she looked to her left and right, the young sixteen year old wondering what happened. She stepped over broken glass before looking left and right. "Hoboe! Musa!" Her calls echoed down the hall when she heard a whimper and followed the sound.

There she saw her, young Musa, sitting with her knees curled to her chest, her arms covered with crimson red blood and a handprint against her face. She just stared at her father's lifeless body without blinking, the tears in her eyes holding her together. "Musa," she whispered, kneeling before the young girl. "Musa look at me." She didn't, she couldn't. She was frozen to the spot like a statue, as if in a trance, spelled by a witch or hypnotised. "Musa," she reached forwards, placing a hand on the young girl's arm she recoiled, refusing to move. "Musa we have to get out of here, it's not safe."

"W-why?" her innocent voice asked as she looked into DuFour's eyes with more pain than she ever thought possible. The older girl released quaking sigh before her bottom lip quivered and Musa's own face contorted with grief.

"I don't know, Musa," she sighed honestly. "I don't know." Her tiny young hands enveloped around her waist suddenly as the tears she shed rained from her eyes and into her shirt. Carefully, DuFour managed to pick up the young girl who buried her head in her shoulder and she carried her out of the door and her old life forever.

* * *

"Why can't I stay with you?" Musa asked, looking up from her place at the table.

"Musa I can't support the both of us," she explained. Musa crossed her arms and pouted. "Stubborn little thing aren't you?"

"I just don't see why I have to life with a stranger! Why can't I stay here? With you?"

"It's complicated," DuFour explained. "It's going to be hard for me to help you, to keep you safe." She looked to the floor as Musa realised what it really was. Her eyes softened as she stepped forwards and broke down her defences. "It's because of the District Games, isn't it?"

DuFour knelt before the young one and nodded her head, her long dark blue locks following her every move. "I have two years of eligibility, and if I'm chosen-"

"Exactly, 'if'," Musa reiterated. "That's not a guarantee."

"No its not, but neither is my safety. If I am named tribute at the reaping then you won't have anyone to look after you and…and I don't want you to lose another important person in your life Musa. You've already lost too many."

"But it's not your fault," she reasoned. "You saved me."

"I know," she smiled. "And I am doing it again, which is why I need you to leave, to live with another family."

"What about if you turn eighteen? And aren't called? Then I could come back and live with you, right?" Musa was confused, she knew that the reaping's were important and that they changed families but she was sure that she'd have DuFour as a friend for life, someone to be there for her for eternity.

"I don't know what the future will hold. But know this," she placed her hands on Musa's shoulders, making her look up and into her eyes. "Where ever you go, whatever you do, I will always be with you."

"One of dad's songs," she beamed.

"Yeah," DuFour nodded. "And you have to be a strong little girl for him, for mum and for me okay?" Musa nodded, her pigtails swaying from side to side. "There's our girl."

* * *

The first day Musa entered her new household she had no idea of what to expect and her grip on DuFour's hand was so tight the teenagers hand had become numb. She knew that it wasn't going to be easy for her to start over again, especially with people she didn't know or trust, but it had to be done, for her sake. Claudia opened the door with Eric closely following; they invited Musa and DuFour inside and were more than kind. Musa saw their two children, Jared, who was one year older than her and Adaline, a young girl who was the same age as Musa. They all had the same hair colour as the others in their district.

"We were sorry to hear about what happened," Eric explained though Musa didn't reply. DuFour did. "Thank you. I'm afraid that all these changes have taken their toll."

"Yes they have," Claudia agreed. "And we are both so glad that you came to us with Musa, we are always happy to help where ever we can."

"I just want to make sure that she will be looked after," DuFour stated. "I want Musa to be happy, to grow up in a home with a family that will love her."

"And she will," Eric reassured.

"I thank you." DuFour said before turning to the young girl with her. "Musa I need you to stay here."

"No!" Musa said with sadness in her voice, "I don't want to stay here without you being here also."

"I'm sorry dear but I can't stay with you." A small bittersweet smile formed on her face, "I am sure that Jared and Adaline will help you feel welcome and that you will have fun with them."

"I want you," she cried, hugging her legs. DuFour looked down before turning to Eric, signalling him to take a hold of her hands and release her grasp as she turned and made for the door. "No! Please! Let me go!" Reaching the front door she turned for a moment and exited, closing it behind her.

* * *

Her mother…her father…her best friend…all taken in one foul swoop of fates hand. She had visited often enough but as the days drew closer and closer to the reaping and DuFour grew distant. She had asked what was wrong but the young woman tried to deter the topic, to change it to her family, to ask how she was doing with them and if they were treating her well. Musa told them that the parents were nice enough but she wasn't used to having other siblings in the home and having to share her things, she didn't know what to talk about at the dinner table and both of the adoptive parents hadn't said a word when she mentioned sickness, death or her parents.

Their visits and chats continued for another six months until the day that both of them had been dreading arrived. The town square was full of families, Musa and her new family were directed to the sidelines to watch the events, all of them being under or over the age, as DuFour checked in. She walked to the marked off area and gave Musa a wave, hoping that the smile on her face wasn't too plastered on.

The proceedings began and Musa felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, something telling her it was wrong, that this was wrong. The young man on stage walked to the girls bowl and his hand entered. When he pulled it out, read the name and stood at the microphone for dramatic effect you could hear a pin drop. "DuFour!" He called and Musa ran for it. She ducked under the railing and pushed past the others, rushing to her side before guards took her and pulled her away and she made the agonising walk to the stage.

With a young male tribute by her side the two were forced to shake hands before they disappeared into the building and Musa ran after them, Claudia and the others unable to stop her. She had lost everyone she ever cared about and losing DuFour wasn't an option. She threw the doors opened and ran through the town halls building, screaming DuFour's name until she saw her being lead into a room and ran for it, her feet struggling to keep up with her pace.

When she finally stopped the running she panted to catch her breath and she waited for the words, waited for her to say something…anything before the guards forced her into the arena to die. "I love you," she spoke and DuFour nodded.

"I love you too."

"You have to come back to me…I lost my mum and my dad, they're both gone and you are all I have…I need you to come back to me."

"I will, I promise," DuFour replied, taking the young girl into her arms one final time before whispering softly in her ear. "Where ever you go, whatever you do, I will always be here for you."

* * *

Musa leant backwards, releasing her hold on her mentor before looking to her only brother. The ship was prepped, it was time for them to leave, to enter the arena and fight to the death. She had no idea how DuFour had done it in the past, had gone to the arena, had seen a way to win and how she had done it for her. She wasn't sure she would be strong enough to win it without her by her side. It had always been the two of them against the world and now it was her turn to take the final step. "Thank you," Musa spoke. "For everything."

"You're welcome," she acknowledged, taking Musa's face between her hands and looking through her glasses with a lopsided smile. "You're parents, would be so proud of you." Tears filled Musa's eyes though she blinked them away and the only one that escaped DuFour wiped away with her thumb. "The odds haven't been in our favour have they?" Musa asked and she nodded her head slowly. "No they haven't. But I know one thing, life is ten percent what happens to us, ninety percent of how we react to it," she paused. "And you Musa are a fighter. You've been through a lot but can do this. I know you can do this, you can come home."

Musa's hands found her mentors and she took them in her grasp. She had made her peace with the idea of death long ago before her name had been chosen. She nodded her head to hopefully give her mentor and long devoted friend some reassurance, though the fire had died out inside her a long time ago. She wasn't going into the arena to win for herself, however much others wanted her to, she was going in to make a stand, against these games, against the witches who made them, cut off their supplies and forced others to kill to get food and medicine.

They were the ones responsible for killing her family and if she was going to die it was going to be with honour, protecting another for the great or good, risking her life to save there's and making a statement. To show them that not all the tributes entering the arena were willing to kill and win for themselves but to fight for what was important…freedom.

And it was with that mindset that she closed her eyes on her pedestal, said a silent prayer to whoever was above, and waited for the countdown to reach zero.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and please review :) the next chapter is planned to be from Rose's perspective. Some of the material in these perspectives will crossover with the sequels Victor Visits.**


	7. The Demon

**AN: I'm sorry for how long it's taken for me to update this fic, I've been busy and honestly this story slipped under my radar for a while. Hopefully when things settle down I'll be able to update more frequently. Thanks go to everyone who has read and reviewed, I hope you enjoy this chapter. All errors are mine, if you spot one, let me know and I'll amend it.**

**Note: After the perspectives from The Blood Wars, I will open up some options for characters from The Blood Wars II :) the story will be a side fic for both the original and the sequel.**

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_**The Demon**_

Life had never been kind to Rose. She was a strong willed teenager who sought the best out of life and for her family and never realized just how important that was until her parents died - both taken too soon from the lives of their five children. Violet was second eldest, ten years old, she kept to herself and supported Rose by looking after the others while her older sister was at work, trying desperately to make ends meet. Her paper run helped a little towards food but Rose always made her put a little money aside for herself, even when the family needed it a lot. "I don't want you to lose all your money because of us," Rose had told her in the past and Violet smiled.

The next two children were six year olds Talula and Storm, paternal twins who were born just six minutes apart from one another. Storm was the younger of the two but the youngest member of the household was Damien at just three months.

It was difficult for Rose to suddenly have four mouths to feed before her own and, although the community rallied and offered support during and after their funeral, most offers were hollow. The baker had promised them two loaves of bread a week, it lasted for three until he said something about cost and that they would need to pay for it. The same went for milk and the odd grocery or two, the house itself needed repairs and so Rose worked at the local supermarket, helping people find what they wanted and working with storage out the back. Sometimes for night shift she'd steal a tin or two, just to help them get by.

The days grew longer and turned to weeks, the kids needed to go to school twice a week and fees needed paying. The electricity started cutting out and that was where she found herself now, sitting in the dark with Talula reading an old picture book from a second hand store down the road. The pictures had crayon drawings all over them, the edges were folded and the spine had been taped and repaired more times than she of the previous owner cared to remember. But it would all be ok; she had to tell herself that.

Thankfully all of them were under the age of eligibility for the games so none of them could ask for additional supplies for entries. She had tried to make do without them but the time had come for action so she took those extra slips, handed them in and got grain and oil for the year. The odd left over penny went to buying toys, or paying bills.

"The end," Talula finished before looking up from Rose's knee in the candle light. "Am I getting better?" she asked and Rose smiled, focusing on the present.

"Yeah you are a clever thing."

Storm plodded down the stairs and stood before the two by raising a hand to her mouth, imitating a need for water. She hadn't said a word since their parent's funeral. Rose wasn't sure why but knew it probably was because she missed them.

"Water or milk?" Rose asked, raising her index finger on 'water' and index and middle for 'milk'. Storm selected and Rose got to get feet to fetch the water.

"We're running it of candles, Rose," Violet pointed out as she took a seat in the kitchen, on an old plastic chair from the alleyway outside work.

"Ok I'll get some more tomorrow," she explained, "finish your drink and get to bed you two, do it quietly please." The twins nodded before dong as they were told.

"Do you miss them?" Violet asked and Rose nodded her head.

"Sometimes... I miss the way mum would complain about dads driving and how they used to be so good with the twins and Damien. But were doing ok."

"Yeah," Violet sighed, and Rose noticed it immediately. She waited for her younger sister to look at her and when she did she saw tears.

"Hey" Rose soothed, taking her into her warm embrace. "I know things have been hard for us but well get through it I promise."

"It's not that," she admitted. "The reaping is next week...I'm worried that you'll get picked."

"Hey don't worry about it, I'll be okay."

"But you have so many entries, you've been looking after us for a month and a half now and you work hard." She leant back and looked into her sister's eyes. "I don't want to lose you too."

"And you won't," Rose hushed, smoothening out her sisters violet hair. "It will be okay, you won't lose me."

* * *

"How could you tell her that?" Lutina asked, sipping on a glass of ice cold water as Rose watched the cubes swirl around her own glass. They were sitting outside at a table with chairs in the sunlight the following morning.

"What was I supposed to say? Sorry kids but I might die like mum and dad, storm will never speak again if that happens."

"She still hasn't said anything I take it?"

"Not a word... It's been over a month and not a single word."

"She'll have to speak soon; you can't live your entire life without speaking."

"You'd think she was an Avox," Rose joked quietly when they both heard a scream.

"ROSE!" Rose bound to her feet, tipping the glass over as she rushed inside with Lutina following closely behind. She ran into the lounge-room. "Talula!"

"UPSTAIRS, HURRY!" Rose raced past the toys and pushed the door open to see Violet on the floor; her arms were wrapped around her stomach, her body shivered and her head beaded with sweat. "V!" Rose yelled, kneeling in front of her. "Lutina, take Talula out of here and run to get a doctor, now!"

"B-But w-w-we, c-can't pay for one," Violet managed to speak through her gritted teeth and contorted face.

"I don't care, you're safety is what's important, go!" The two ran down the hallway out of sight as Rose placed a hand to Violets head, she was burning up.

"Does your stomach hurt?" Violet nodded her head.

"C-Cold."

"Can you move?" She shook her head so Rose reached up to the bed and removed its blanket before ordering Storm to get her a towel and a basin. After covering her body from the neck down she rushed to get some cool water into the basin and returned to the room where Violet still lay on her side. All the colour had drained from her face.

"Storm, get me another basin, please." She couldn't find one so instead returned with a bucket from the outside garden which Violet immediately wretched into. Suddenly Damien started to cry and Storm ran to his crib to help without needing to ask. When the contents of her stomach were up and out Rose emptied it into the toilet bowl and rinsed it in the bathroom sink before returning and wiping her sister's face with the cool towel. She took a sip of water and swirled it around her mouth before Rose wiped her lips of any excess waste.

"We're here!" A thankful Talula called from the door and the doctor was in. He assessed her symptoms, checked her stomach, her temperature, everything that he could.

"It's a bad stomach virus," he explained. "A lot of people have it." And he wasn't kidding. The virus had spread through the entire district though most had been able to avoid it…Rose hadn't been so lucky.

Violet was the first, closely followed by Storm and Talula. Rose, although she too had contracted a fever, needed to stay strong and to look after the others. Lutina took Damien from the house to where he would be safer from the infection and they had to live and clean their own filth for days.

* * *

After a few days things had calmed down. Violet was sleeping, recovering from the worst bout while Talula and Storm had recovered some colour to their cheeks. But tomorrow was reaping day. "Hey Rose," Lutina addressed, walking inside to see the other children resting or playing quietly with each other, Damien had been returned to his cot and Rose smiled as she closed the Violet's door and let her sleep.

"Hey."

"How is everyone?"

"Better, V is still pretty bad but the doctor thinks she'll be okay if she rests…I still owe him payment though and I'm not sure how I'm going to get him what he needs," she combed a hand through her head before taking a seat in the kitchen. "So…reaping day's tomorrow, huh."

"Yeah," Lutina sighed. "I'm not sure who it will be but I know a lot of people have needed to take additional entries." She looked to Rose. "You've been doing such a great job with the kids."

"Thanks…not sure how long it will last though. I have a lot of entries this year, being my final year of eligibility. I don't know what will happen to these kids if I get called to the arena."

"What if you didn't have to go?" Lutina asked and Rose laughed.

"What do you mean? Run away before the lottery starts, you know that's not an option."

"No I mean what if…even if you were called…you didn't have to go." Rose looked puzzled, perplexed, how was it possible?"What if I volunteered to take your place?"

"What? Lutina you can't be serious."

"I am Rose!" She reached forward and took her best friends hands into her own. "Look at you, you have these four kids to look after, you have responsibilities, you have a life. I don't have any of that, I live with my parents and we don't need anything but it's like you said these kids would be lost without you, possibly worse." Rose looked to the table, it was a generous offer, too generous, but she was right. Storm, Talula, Violet, Damien, they all needed her support to keep them going, to keep them alive.

"If you get called up tomorrow, I'm not saying that you will but if you do…I'll volunteer for you."

"No."

"Yes," Lutina pushed. "Rose look at me." She did. "I'd rather die myself in the arena than see your brother and sisters starve to death or struggle."

"It's a generous offer," Rose admitted aloud. "But you can't be joking with me about this, you know how much that these kids mean to me, you can't back out if this is your word. The last thing that I or they need is false hope right now."

"I know," Lutina nodded standing up as Rose did the same. The two embraced and held each other tight for support. "Besides, they might just call me straight away and save you the trouble or stress."

* * *

"Stay here on the side lines, I'll see you after its drawn okay?" Violet and the others nodded before she gave them each a hug and kiss and walked to her roped off area, catching a glimpse back at them and nodding for reassurance.

"Welcome everyone to the twenty fourth annual district games! Today we have the opportunity to select our districts male and female representative," the major spoke diplomatically, boredom in his voice. He didn't have any kids so he didn't need to worry about the possible outcomes. "We will begin with the boys." He walked to the bowl and selected a slip by digging his hand into the slips and collecting one. "Troy!"

The young man walked to the stage and took his stance and now Rose's time had come. "And now for the girls…this year our female district representative is-" again he selected the slip, opened it and paused. "Rose!"

"NO!" She heard Talula yell and Rose looked to the far right, expecting to see Lutina step up to volunteer, to take her place, but she didn't move, didn't look at her. Two guards walked into the crowd and forced her to the stage. "You bitch! You promised!" She screamed, arms pushed her onto the stage and directly into the rooms behind. She ran to the door, trying to break back through but it was too late. Lutina had betrayed her. She kicked the door with her foot, threw anything that she could see around the room as burning rage filled her heart.

Why? Why her? Why the hell did life have to be so difficult for her? Her brother and sisters were going to be in even more trouble, were going to have to fend for themselves, Violet would have to take care of everyone, a burden that no ten year old should have to face. She still owed the doctor money and now had no way to pay it back.

The door opened when she had calmed down and there they were, all four of them, with tears down their cheeks. Damien's ones weren't from sadness like the others but she knew he could sense a change coming. "Come here," she opened her arms and they all rushed into her embrace, took her by the arms or legs, held her chest and closed their eyes. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry this has to happen." They remained together the way they were until Rose leant back.

"Violet you're head of the house now," she nodded. "I need you to continue your paper run, get a job at the local store, work night shifts if you have to and pay back the doctor before any other bills. Candles are in the top cupboards, use them sparingly and make sure that everyone stays healthy and eats right. Steal if you have to get by, I know it's against the law but you have to do it."

"Talula and Storm, you need to help Violet, get a paper run yourselves, sell some of your toys, help her with cooking and keeping the house clean and looking after Damien." She looked to the baby in Violets arms and took him into her own. "And you little guy," his hand clamped weakly over her finger. "You grow up to be big and strong so you can pay back these three for looking after you so well…don't do anything to hurt a girl when you grow up and be careful who you trust."

"Two minutes left," a guard announced through the door.

"Rose…" it was a quiet voice, a passive little one that she hadn't heard for so long. She looked down to Storm, passed Damien to V and knelt to be eye level with her. "Yeah," she smiled

"You could come home…if you win."

"Yeah I could, but I don't know how strong the others are."

"They won't be as strong as you," she smiled weakly and Rose placed a hand against her cheek to wipe away her tears. "I'll try my best." Storms body hit hers and she held her close. "Keep talking, don't be afraid to voice your thoughts…even if I'm not here I'll always be watching you. Okay? Remember that all of you."

"It's time to go."

"I love you!" Rose yelled hoarsely before they were dragged from her presence and out the door that slammed with a bang. Then it opened again and a new expression adorned her face. She wiped the tears, composed herself and decided that there was only one way to save her family now and that was to win in the arena. She stepped outside and walked through the crowd to the awaiting ship when she saw Lutina standing to the side.

"Rose I'm s-"

"No you're not," Rose replied harshly, stopping and staring at her right in the eyes with hatred burning within. "You better watch these games…because whatever I do to the others in the arena I will do twice as worse to you when I get home." And with that she boarded the ship with Troy and watched her home fade from sight below.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and please review.**

**As noted above I will be opening suggestions for character perspectives from The Blood Wars II once the following characters are done: Riven, Stella, Galatea, Saladin and Darcy.**

**I have arranged a new poll on my profile for BW2 character's, vote for the ones you'd like to see and the chapters will come once the above 5 are finished :)**

**Thanks to everyone for their suggestions and ideas throughout, I really appreciate them and hope that you'll enjoy the BW2 character reflections just as much as these first ones :)**


	8. The Innocent

**AN: I apologise for how long it has taken for me to update this fic, had extreme writers block for a good few months and even considered putting the Blood Wars series on hiatus it got that bad. But, thankfully, the odds have been in my favour and to make up for how long it's been I will be uploading two chapters for this fic this week.**

**I'd like to say thanks to you all for your continued support of this series and wish you all a very Merry Christmas!**

**Warning: This chapter contains mentions of blood, violence and dark themes, you have been warned.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_**The Innocent**_

"Our male tribute is Derrick!" Her brother froze; he didn't move an inch and just stared at the floor, the shine in his blue eyes disappearing instantly. Two guards pushed through the crowd and the kids dispersed, allowing them to take him by the upper arms and move him toward the stage. Galatea felt her heart beating faster and faster beneath her ribs. Her mind wished that this moment hadn't happened, that her brother's name hadn't been called... but it had and no amount of wishing was going to change the truth. She pushed past the other girls toward the front as he was guided on stage. His hands shaking nervously and eyes darting from left to right, trying to look for at least one sign of support.

"Derrick!" Galatea yelled from below, making him look at her, and it was as if the world stood still. She didn't hear a word coming from the presenter's mouth, didn't feel the body heat of the others surrounding her. She didn't blink, or breathe, but knew exactly what she had to do. She couldn't volunteer for her brother, but she could go in with him, she could support him and try to help him win, try to get him home.

"Our female tribute is-"

"I volunteer!"

The presenter stopped and surveyed the crowd. "Who said that?" He asked and Galatea's hand shot into the air as she stooped under the red rope and stood firm, hearing her mother's cry resound behind her. "It was me, I volunteer for the arena." Two guards ushered her onto the stage and she stood there, looking below to the crowds who held disbelief in their eyes. Their bodies were prevented from rebelling, or changing Magix's decision, but their eyes held their challenge. They knew this was wrong and they knew the kind of sacrifice she was making.

"Your name?"

"Galatea," she replied, keeping her words firm and strong.

"Your female tribute is Galatea!" He emphasised before placing a hand on either of their shoulders. "Good luck to both of you and may the odds be ever in your favour." He turned on his heel and they were both lead into the building behind the main stage and out of sight. The moment the doors closed Galatea took Derrick into her arms. He sobbed into her shoulder and hugged her with so much strength that she thought he could have pushed the wind from her lungs. But she stayed on her knees, placed a comforting hand at the back of his head and let him release all of the emotions flowing through his veins, tears filling her own eyes and falling onto his blonde hair.

* * *

"Let us see them!" The sound of their father's voice broke through from the door beyond as the door opened and he stormed inside with her mother closely following. They both knelt around them and formed a circling embrace.

"Galatea, you didn't have to do that," Roderick explained, sitting on the ground as Melinda took Derrick in her arms.

"Yes I did," she replied, "I couldn't just let him go in there alone. You know what kind of environment that is."

"I do," he nodded, taking her back into his broad arms and holding her there. He was conflicted, both terribly proud of his daughter and terribly worried for their safety. If the games went well then maybe one of them would come home, but the other was doomed to death for sure. Galatea was strong willed, she was extremely protective and her nature would help her to survive in the arena, but Derrick was fragile, young, and shy; the chances of him being able to survive by himself were minimal if non-existent.

"I know what you're going to say," she whispered. "You don't have to thank me, just promise me that you'll look after mum and Derrick when he gets home." Roderick pulled away and looked into her lightened eyes, the tears clouding his vision. He shook his head from side to side in disbelief but she placed a hand to his face and nodded. "I'll do everything I can to get him home, and if I fail-"

"Then you need to try and win," Roderick stressed but Galatea looked to the floor, her answer clear. Either Derrick came home or neither of them did.

"Galatea-"

"Time's up!" A guard commanded from the door opening it as four other guards entered to escort the worried parents from the room. Roderick hurried over to Derrick and took the little guy in his arms, holding him protectively while Melinda did the same to Galatea, whispering the same sweet nothings about how proud she was about her decision, how she wanted to see them home, how they needed to fight and that no matter what happened inside the arena that they would still love them. Then they were cruelly ripped from their children's lives and the door slammed closed, their screams fading into nonexistence.

"Galatea," Derrick spoke, for the first time since he had been reaped. "I'm scared." His voice shook and Galatea placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I am too, buddy," she admitted. "But we're in this together okay, we stick together and we'll get through this, alright?"

He agreed and when the door opened for a second time to lead them to their awaiting ship, Galatea felt his fingers curl around her own; she stood tall and wiped away the tears from her eyes and from Derricks before they were beckoned outside and called to their doom.

Watching the district disappearing below them made Galatea feel physically ill but she remained as strong as she could for Derrick's sake. She knew that, no matter what happened in the arena, she wasn't coming home. She wasn't going to see her family again, she wasn't going to feel her dads loving embrace or listen to her mother's beautiful music ever again, but if that sacrifice meant that her brother had a chance to make it, to live, she had to take it, whatever the cost.

* * *

"What do you think of Helia?" Asked Sibylla the morning before the games, noting the way that Derricks smile beamed.

"He's awesome," he smiled. "He really helped me during training." Galatea remained quiet making Sibylla clear her throat to gain her attention.

"He's a nice person; if either of us didn't win then we'd want him to. He and Flora have been great to us."

"Have you considered using him as an ally?" Sibylla questioned, taking a sip of juice from her cup and forcing it down her throat, another two tributes were being sent to die, to be picked limb from limb.

"No," Galatea replied, shaking her head. "Derrick and I are in this together, and you can't trust anyone when we get into the arena, they aren't always what they seem." Sibylla had to agree with the young woman's response, in the arena, nothing was ever as it seemed. Appearances were always deceptive. "I don't think I can give you both much further advice, other than to obviously stick together and work hard, find water, avoid the Tree of Life, and try to let the others kill each other as much as possible. If you let the more competitive ones start to pick others off one by one then you'll have more strength when it comes to the final confrontation yourself."

Galatea nodded and Derrick swallowed another glass of water, obviously remembering to hydrate well before entering. Sibylla stood as the guard opened the door and told them the two words that started their downfall 'it's time'. They quickly stood and each gave Sibylla and their Avoxes hugs and thanks for their tireless efforts before walking down the corridor and to their awaiting ship. The crowds outside lined the streets, banners flew in the sky for their favourites and Derrick saw his name on a few of them and smiled, Galatea wasn't as enthusiastic.

They saw Helia and Flora in the distance, both looking solemn but smiling all the same and they gave a wave before entering and making their way there, camera's floated across the magical dimension, capturing everything but Galatea's tears.

* * *

Galatea raced toward Darcy with determination in her eye, she wasn't going to let anyone hurt her little brother. She made contact and forced the knife further into Darcy's body, plunging it into her stomach with as much force as she could muster to her shaking hands. Her vision remained blurry and when she closed her eyes and opened them again her jaw dropped and heart stopped breathing.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, the entire world disappeared and the only thing she saw was her hand holding onto the knife handle, its blade deep inside her brothers body cavity. His legs collapsed and she caught him quickly, supporting his head with her hands. "No…Derrick, I-" she didn't know what to do, what to say, the worst possible grief hit her like a wave against the shoreline, thrashing wildly inside her brain until she couldn't function and found herself like a statue.

"Derrick," she cried, lifting his head against her chest and holding it there with all of her strength. She thought she heard something from behind her but wasn't sure, instead she felt his life slowly draining from his body and into the unknown.

"G-Galatea," Derrick sighed weakly as she lowered his head to look into his beautiful blue eyes. "I…l-love y-y-you." His chest deflated for the last time and her world along with it.

From the very beginning she had resided to the fact that she would die, every living thing was destined to pass away at some point, to fade into nonexistence, to find themselves in the grave. But she never expected it to end this way, for her to defy the exact reason that she had come into the arena, to protect Derrick…and she had failed. Instead of protecting him from the unknown and from other tributes she had ended his life with her own hands…her innocent, loving, soft and affectionate hands that had offered him help when he needed it, that had cradled him when he was only a baby, whose shoulder had been wet with his tears and whose mind had made its own decision.

She always knew that she would die, she knew her fate, but was still yet to accomplish it. She looked to Helia, her only hope and lifted the knife from his body and held it to his hand. "Helia…" she begged on her knees, "please…kill me."

"I can't."

"Please! I don't want to continue living without my brother!"

"No!" He refused. "You need to keep on living for him; that is what he would want. He wouldn't want you to die."

"But I can't live…I can't win this thing, you know that. I'd rather have someone I know do it than some psycho like Darcy."

"I won't do it," he shook his head, blinking back a tear. "I can't." So she had been wrong after all, sometimes the people inside the arena were the ones on the outside. Helia hadn't changed; if he had he wouldn't have refused the easiest kill the games could possibly offer to him, like a piece of meat on a silver platter. Though his loyalty also made her determined. They have said that to sacrifice oneself for another is the ultimate expression of love and bravery but in Galatea's case it was the ultimate freedom from her guilt.

"Then if you won't," she replied, tears flowing freely from her eyes as she turned the blade in her hands, and held it before her chest. "I will."

"No!" Helia lunged but it was too late. The blade pierced through her chest and into her heart, blood poured from the wound as she slumped to her side and Helia caught her just before she hit the ground. "Galatea."

"Win this."

"I will," he promised, another single tear falling from his eye. "If you see Derrick, in heaven," he paused, his bottom lip quivering. "You give him a hug for me?"

"Of course," Galatea smiled. "Thank you, Helia." Her eyes closed, her heart stopped beating, and her story became legendary.

* * *

AN: Thanks for reading and please review! Riven's chapter is up next :)


	9. The Brother

**AN: As promised here is Riven's chapter, hope you enjoy it and thanks for all the reviews. It will be a while before I can update this fic again, I'm hoping less time than it took to do it this time, but I can't promise anything. Enjoy.**

**All errors are mine.**

**Warning: This chapter contains blood, violence and dark themes, you have been warned.**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_**The Brother**_

It was a dark and stormy night when everything changed in Riven's life, it may have sounded cliché but the black clouds that hung over his family were never to be ignored. They lingered there for years, shadowed the group from the inside out, prevented it from healing, but eventually it came the time for Riven to face the truth, to face the past.

He lay on the cool undergrowth with rain pouring from above, opening his mouth to try and catch as much of the liquid as he could inside and swallowing, a single crack of thunder roared across the sky but he didn't get a chance to flinch. Exhaustion had finally forced his eyes closed and when he opened them he was no longer inside the watered forests of the arena, but lying in bed, staring at an old comic book under the sheets with a torch. He heard the sound of yelling coming from beyond his door and he wondered what was happening before it died down.

His head lifted from below the covers and he peered at the wooden door, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching. Quickly he hid the comic beneath his pillow and the torch under his bed, before returning his head down and closing his eyes.

When the door opened with a creak he didn't move and remained focused, the footsteps drew closer but he still kept his eyes closed. He felt a hand move the covers of his bed closer to his neck and a pair of lips kiss his forehead, making him open his eyes just enough to see who it was but not enough for them to find out in the dark room.

It was his mother, her long magenta hair over her shoulders and tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, and Riven remained still. "I have to go… I don't want to be a burden on any of you, you deserve better my sweet," she whispered before stealing one final kiss and moving some of the young boy's hair from his eyes. Her footsteps disappeared down the hallway and out of sound and sight and he never saw her again.

* * *

Their father, Caius, had told them that she abandoned them because she didn't want to be tied down and Riven and Mirta never questioned his logic. They were too young when it happened to understand so they lived their lives in peaceful ignorance and worked hard in their district for food, supplies, water, medicine, and to help those in need… until Riven found something.

He had started working in one of the many weaponry factories at the early age of twelve. At first it required nothing more than sweeping floors or doing lunch runs but soon he started to craft his own blades and knives. It was always hot inside the factories and the mixture of warm conditions and his strength provided him with longer shifts to help support his family, something that became more and more essential for homes to survive.

His father approached him one day during his lunch break while he was planning a new weapon he wanted to make, a pocket knife with red and black leathered handle. "Son, I left an order form at home, can you pick it up for me? It'll be in my office."

"Sure," he nodded, taking his helmet from the table and mounting his bike. It didn't take long for him to arrive and when he did he unlocked the front doors and walked straight to his father's study.

It was usually quite immaculate though had become unorganised quite quickly once their mother left, books and papers were everywhere, covering most of the floor space and that on the tables. Riven had to wonder why he spent so many hours of his day in this room, and how he actually could without feeling the need to sort something. Riven wasn't a perfectionist, but he did believe that one should treat their home and belongings with respect.

He scrambled through piles of books and papers before pulling out the draws and searching frantically for any sign of his prize. Just as he lifted another receipt from the draw he spotted something, a small piece of rope attached to the bottom piece of wood. Carefully he pulled it upwards and saw something lying beneath, a letter.

"Why would he want to hide this?" He asked himself softly before opening the envelope and removing the paper inside. It was written in beautiful, feminine script.

"My dear Caius, I know that you may not understand the reason that I left the way that I did, but believe me when I say I had no choice. It was never you or the children, it was me," he paused, taking a breath. "I'm sick, continuously, terminally, sick, and the last thing that I wanted was for you, Riven or Mirta to see me deteriorate and die. They deserve a mother who is fit, healthy and strong, not one that will soon be bed bound for the rest of her short life. I'd rather they and you remembered me the way I am now. Look after them, keep them safe, bring Riven up to be the strong young man he is destined to be and make sure Mirta will always be loved. I love you my love, never forget that."

Riven lifted his eyes from the page and stared at nothing in particular, waiting for the words to process in his mind when something appeared on the table, seemingly from thin air. It was a small box and he removed the lid, inside we're more letters, all addressed to Riven and Mirta. There were at least an hundred or more of them.

Riven ripped one open and read the contents before his jaw became rigid and his eyes furrowed with rage. Grabbing the box forcefully in his hands he ran outside to his bike, mounted it and rode to town, it was time he learnt the truth.

"Riven!" Caius called, his words slurring, telling Riven that he had done the unthinkable behind his back. Sure he missed mum, but why did he have to drink on the job and make a fool of himself.

He looked at the box, then back to his sons stone hard face, thoughts suddenly a little clearer. "Where did you get that?"

"She was sick!" Riven stormed pushing his way into the factory making the other workers stop and look at him strangely, "why didn't you ever tell us!"

"Riven, we can talk about this later."

"No!" He snapped, "you've kept us in the dark for too long already, it's time we heard the truth!"

"We can talk about it later!" Caius yelled.

"Our mother was sick!"

"She abandoned you, whatever her reason that's a fact," he swigged a mouthful from his hip flask and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"She did it to protect us, so that we'd remember her right."

"And what do you remember about her huh?" Caius asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his feet swaying slightly as he did so. "What do you remember?" Riven didn't reply, he knew small details but nothing important, he was sure the answers to all of his questions were inside the box he held in his hands now. "I remember that she loved us."

"Do you really remember that or do you just think you do?"

"She did love us," Riven answered, "it was probably you that she didn't."

"You obviously didn't read that letter properly - I always knew you were thick. She didn't love any of us and all of your so called memories of her love are a young boys fantasy, they never happened."

Riven lost it, he took his father by the shoulders, threw the flask to the floor and pushed him backwards into a work bench, bringing his face closer to his, his breath wreaking of liquor.

"Take...that...back," he threatened but Caius didn't budge, he smiled devilishly.

"I'm only telling the truth."

"No you're not! Why would she write letters to us? Why would she bother doing that if she didn't love us."

"Because she felt guilty for leaving. You can believe what you want to believe Riven but rather than letting us help her she ran and that isn't love." The magenta haired boy stepped backwards, allowing his father to stand. He had no idea where his strength had come from, where that rage had come from, but it burned through his veins. He turned on his heel and started for the door, his right hand clenching as he went.

"Hey!" Caius yelled, staggering into the workbench before him. "You can't just leave! You've got work to do." and that was the last straw.

Riven's right hand began to glow a brilliant red before orange flames danced over his skin and he turned on his heel, pushing his hand forward to release a blast that didn't hit his father directly but did hit the sword hanging above his head.

Sparks flew as it dislodged the metal death accessory from the railing above where it flew straight down his chest, slicing him from collarbone to stomach before hitting the floor.

Caius fell to the floor, his hands trying to stem the flow that just kept on coming when someone yelled for a first aid kit and a medic while he was frozen still. The factory workers stared at him with wide eyes and open mouths, no one had seen that kind of power come from a young man before, they usually expected it of fairies but no one had heard of a wizard existing in district seven for years.

Riven turned, feeling tears start to spring to his eyes and took one step after another away, never looking back.

* * *

He found himself home when Mirta arrived and found him, sitting on the floor in the hallway with letters scattered over the floor around him, tears falling from his eyes. "What have I done?" he asked and she didn't say a word, just got to her knees on the varnished wood and hugged him tightly in her arms. "It's all going to be okay."

And it was. The town never told the world the truth, the accident was written off as a drunken workplace incident, Riven and his father stopped working for the factories, and that was the end of that.

The power he held never emerged again; he took classes to keep his anger in check and made up with his father who admitted to needing help for his alcoholism. The black clouds that hung over the family slowly dissipated, slowly retreated to show a bright dawn. But the day of the reaping changed all that.

Mirta's name was in the draw one hundred and seventy four times. That was enough entries to feed twenty families for two years, enough entries for everyone inside their small town, both adults and children. She knew it was going to happen and though Riven couldn't volunteer to take her place, he knew he could do something.

Late at night he walked to their shed and started to craft a slingshot from wood he found in a nearby neighbours property. He cut and filed it, sawed and blew the dust away and when it was done carved the letter M on its handle. With it in his hand and a passion for his sister in his heart, he ran back to the house and took Mirta's push-bike and pedalled it into town the night before the reaping was to take place. The areas were roped; the stage set, the cameras on and then Riven saw who he wanted… a guard.

The man stopped in his tracks and heard something in the distance and then he felt someone pulling him to the ground. Riven straddled him and hit his gun away before struggling to pin his arms below his knees. Once secure he tried to struggle and Riven removed the slingshot from his pocket and held a dagger against its string. "Stop struggling and I won't hurt you," he explained.

"W-What do you want?"

"I want to go into the arena."

"Then just volunteer like someone normal would!" He spat and Riven pulled back on the string tighter, shaking his fingers to make it appear as if he was closer to doing the deed.

"I don't want to volunteer, it want to be selected."

"What difference does it make either way?"

"A lot of difference," Riven replied, lowering the weapon. "My name is Riven, and I want you to tell your other guards to find the male reaping bowl tomorrow and replace all of the names in there with mine."

"But why?" He asked softly.

"Because if you don't there is another way I'll be forced in there, and you won't like it." His head nodded with understanding, anyone that killed a guard or assaulted them would be picked for the reaping automatically, at least if he complied he would live. "Okay, I'll make sure everything is set up." Riven hesitated for a moment before getting to his feet and walking into the darkness.

"Wait!" He called, stopping him. "Why are you doing this? I mean really doing this?" Riven turned to look over his shoulder. The words of one particular letter his mother wrote sticking in his mind more than others.

_If you are reading this letter than you know the truth, and you will know that these are the last words I will ever write. You must do what is right, for you live in a world surrounded by sadness, grief and death. Protect each other my dear son and all of this will come to an end._

The man eagerly awaited his reply, his breathing shallow and quiet. "Because my mother told me so." And with that he left, ready to face a new and darker dawn.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading and please review.**


	10. The Illusionist

**A/N: Thanks for reading and sticking with this side story. I hope you've enjoyed the chapters thus far and will like this one too. We only have two more characters to investigate for the first Blood Wars story before the side-fic will begin to follow The Blood Wars II. Voting is still available in my profile for additional character perspectives for BWII, thanks go to everyone who has already voted.**

**Please read the ending authors note.**

**All errors are mine.**

**Warning: This chapter contains adult themes, violence and mentions of blood.**

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_**The Illusionist**_

Darcy's back collided with the Tree of Life with a loud crack. She stood winded, unable to inhale or exhale as Stella pinned her body against it, the feasts struggle slowly developing around them. The look in the sun fairies eyes was filled purely with rage, hatred, a complete lack of mercy. Darcy tried to fight back by kicking her legs but Stella had her already covered, she stepped away from the blow and hit the witch with her elbow, making a gash appear on her head and her vision blur. A pounding at the back of her skull from its collision with the tree making Stella multiply in two.

"Darcy!" She heard Bishop yell, before he raced towards Stella with his sword raised, ready to try and cut her back and take her from this life and into the next. But the sun fairy smiled and disappeared, making Darcy slowly lift her eyes to see Bishops own ones widen. His momentum was too much, he couldn't stop himself in time. "I'm sorry," he apologised and in that split second time stopped and her eyes closed.

She opened her eyes and she stood inside the towns parklands, a single place in the middle of the building bound society where she lived. Surrounded by the concrete jungle it was the one place in the city where kids could run around in the grass, could play with one another away from the cars and truly enjoy everything life had to throw at them. They would play pretend, chase one another around through the trees, climb up and down them and love every minute of it. But this particular day was different.

Darcy had always had a difficult childhood, but it wasn't until a local builder decided to make a simple and innocent tree house inside the park that made her different from the other children.

Darcy approached it with excitement in her eyes and a gladness in her heart, she had never seen such an amazing thing before in her life. Their homes were tall sky scrapers with small apartments, not houses or homes with their own roofs and a garden, and to see a home sitting up in a tree… well, that was something exciting in its own right.

She approached the rope ladder at the bottom and was about to walk up the run when a young girls head pushed itself through the door. She looked down to Darcy and smiled. "What's the password?" She asked.

Darcy didn't know there was a password, she thought that the playground equipment was for everyone to use. "I don't know," she answered honestly when another girl, with dark black locks of hair whispered into the others ear for a moment.

"If you don't know the password then you can't come up."

"Why not? Mr. Smith made this house for everyone."

"Yes, everyone, but not you," the snide little dark haired girl spoke, looking through the window with a smirk. "You don't have a daddy." The laughs came shortly after, a taunting cacophony from the rafters and through the gaps in the floor.

"Darcy needs a daddy, Darcy needs a daddy." The sing-song echoed through her ears as warm tears pushed their way forwards. She closed her eyes, turned and ran back home, hearing their mockeries follow her home.

* * *

On the day of the reaping, she stood amongst the crowd, the girls that had taunted her long ago were now her age, taller, older, more mature, or at least they were supposed to be. Most of them looked over their shoulders as she said goodbye to her mother and waited in line to be sighed in while they paraded in with their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers. Their grandparents were in attendance half the time too but the only person Darcy had was her mother, and she liked it like that.

They looked at her with questioning eyes at the way she dressed and scrutinised everything they did. "Hey look girls," the dark haired young beauty spoke as she sauntered her way next to the young witch. "it's Darcy, how are you?" She didn't bother answering and instead kept her eyes forward. "You know it's rude not to say hello!" She shoved her a little, making her stumble but regain her footing after a moment. She still didn't bother saying a word, words only ended up getting her into more trouble than she was worth and they would only use them against her anyway. "Come on Darcy, what's wrong? Still hung up about that whole daddy thing? Haven't you gotten used to him not being around, to him abandoning you like some stray dog on the side of the road."

Darcy snapped, she punched Sirena in the face; sending her to the ground and making the others form a circle around the two. Darcy's mother tried to step forwards through the barricade but a soldier stopped her advance.

"At least my father wasn't a cheating scumbag!" Darcy snarled before two guards separated them by force. "And he didn't abandon me, he died!"

"What's the difference?!" Sirena shrieked.

"Save it for the arena," one guard snapped before Sirena was taken away to the other side of the group and Darcy remained where she was, not fighting against the hands that held her arms far too tightly.

"You okay?" asked a voice to her left, she turned to see a young man standing there with a concerned expression on his face. He had a mostly bald head but managed some beautiful looking purple locks that he tied up into a high pony tail. "Fine, thanks."

"Without further ado let's get this year's reaping under way." The two guards let go of her and let her assume her position. She never paid much attention to the reaping but knew that she had her name in a couple more times than others did in order to help feed her mother. The usual proceedings were discussed, the same in every district, before it finally came time to announce the winners of a lifetime supply of misery, distress and loneliness.

The boys name was drawn first, and the young man next to her stepped up to the stage, a strange calmness in his features, almost as if he was expecting to be selected. Then it came for the girls turn. She remembered closing her eyes and opened them when her name was called. "Ha! Loser!" Sirena yelled from behind, a few others muttering to each other and gossiping about how much she deserved it, how much a fatherless daughter deserved to be sent to her death to a pack of wild animals.

She ignored the comments and stood on the stage, noticing the way her mother's eyes grew older in a matter of seconds.

* * *

They were both lead to two separate apartments for their goodbyes and Darcy felt numb from her head to her toes, though she was kind of excited about the prospect of finally leaving this place once and for all. If she came back then she'd be a hero, a force to be reckoned with, and people like Sirena wouldn't dare push or shove her any more.

The door opened and her mother stepped inside, wearing a solemn expression before taking a seat across from her in a vacant chair. "Darcy-"

"It's okay, you don't need to apologise."

"Actually I do," Minerva insisted quietly, clutching her walking cane between her hands and taking a breath to steady herself. "I haven't been entirely honest with you."

"What do you mean? About what?" Darcy questioned.

"About your father," her mother answered, "I didn't plan on telling you until you were eighteen but, the odds haven't been in our favour." Darcy didn't move, she didn't blink, just waited for her mother's explanation to come. Finally she parted her lips to utter the words.

"Darcy, your father he… he raped me when we were dating one another. He took our relationship to a different level, one that I wasn't ready for, and in the process made me pregnant." Her daughter's spark of life seemed to extinguish, the gleam in her eye that had always been present since childhood disappeared.

"You mean I was a mistake," she muttered and Minerva was quick to react. She leant forwards and took her daughters hands in her own, holding the walking stick between her knees.

"You were not a mistake! You have been the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"But you didn't want me."

"I never said that, I thought about terminating but-" Darcy stood to her feet and walked away, crossing her arms and looking to the floor, her back turned. "But I thought that maybe this was meant to be, so I had you and told you that your father died."

"He's still alive?" She asked, turning her head to look over her shoulder. Minerva shook her head softly.

"No, that much is true; he passed away in a workplace accident after leaving the city. I'm not sure where he went but he died just after you were born."

"And you were going to wait until I was eighteen to tell me? Why when I was eighteen!" Darcy snapped, turning so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own two feet. "After all the years of suffering, bullying and teasing that I had endure everyday since I was born by Sirena and those other pathetic excuses for magical beings you were going to let me wait another two years before telling me the truth!"

"Darcy-" Minerva spoke, getting to her shaky feet, her cane wavering on its point as she made it to her feet.

"I went through hell, depression, anxiety and so much damn stress because everyone teased me about not belonging, teased me about not having a dad or having one that abandoned me… but they were right."

"No they weren't."

"Yes they were, I am pathetic, I wasn't even wanted…wasn't w-wanted," her words failed as water clouded her vision with tears, "wasn't wanted by own mother."

"I never said that-" Minerva stressed, stepping towards her daughter and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Darcy, I love you."

"No you don't." She shook her mother's hand away as if it was made of flame, breaking Minerva's heart in two.

"Yes I do, I love you."

"And I hate you." Darcy's reply was full of malice, was thick and laced with poison, each word slowly driving its way into her mother's head and heart, ripping chunks and pieces from the already floating pieces of emotion. Minerva would have reacted if she didn't feel so betrayed, so hurt, and when the door opened and the two guards came to get her she couldn't find the strength to move let alone stand.

She fell back against another chair and Darcy walked to the door instead, followed the soldiers out and left Minerva in silence.

* * *

And now she was here, facing her own end, and the very last words she had said to her mother were that she hated her, and she'd said them with such hurt and sorrow that she wished she had an opportunity to retrieve them. To apologise and say she was sorry, but that time was already up. She should have been more grateful for her mother's kindness, she could have terminated the pregnancy, killed her life before it even began, she could have abandoned her like so many others had done to them during difficult circumstances across other districts and realms. She could have stopped work altogether and stayed at home, she could have let her be punched in the face by that bully when she was twelve but instead she took the punch, and the kick that shattered her hip bone and left her with a lifelong limp.

But she hadn't, and there were no second chances in the arena. Darcy had resided to the fact that she would die, only a foolish tribute would enter the arena one hundred percent certain of their victory. She had told Helia that whatever was destined to happen happened and that not everyone could be trusted, when really there was a spark of denial in her own words. She had a difficult past, a difficult life, had dreamt on what would happen if she returned from the arena victorious, had thought of all the people she would make pay for their treatment of her and her mother. But all of that vanished in a flash of Bishop's sword.

She didn't feel it enter her skin, didn't feel the warm sun above her head or hear the commotion and ongoing battle around her. But she did hear her breaths, coming slower and slower, did feel the warm trickle of blood pooling beneath her limp form, drying on her hands which tried to stem the flow. And amongst it all she managed to look to the sky and mutter two words softly, to be carried on the wind to her mother's ears. 'I'm sorry.'

The canon fired.

* * *

**A/N: **During some downtime before Christmas I started to make some online fan-art wallpapers for the characters of The Blood Wars: Revelations and was wondering if anyone was interested in seeing them. The characters I have completed so far are:

Faragonda, Miele, Mirta, Griffin, Bloom, Musa, Galatea, Riven and Darcy

Please let me know through review or PM and if enough people are interested I will create a DeviantArt account and post the link in my profile. I have also been thinking about making some more complicated images for specific parts of the first Blood Wars story but will have to wait and see how kind time is to me. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review and let me know about the pics.


	11. The Enemy

**AN: Thanks go to chinaluv, Dragon at Play and Akela Victoire for reviewing the last chapter. Your constant and consistent support of this fic and my other Blood Wars ones has been tremendous, I can't thank you enough.**

**I'd also like to thank Roxy Fan 4 Ever for being a huge help for this chapter.**

**I have started a Deviant ART account ( chrissiemusa. deviant / gallery/) (No Spaces) to share some of my BW creations and a few other little bits here and there, please check them out if you're interested and let me know what you think. Along with a wallpaper for this chapter I've also added another creation that features Mirta and Flora in Mirta's death scene from BW1. I hope you like them! :)**

**All errors are mine (if you see one let me know via PM and I'll amend it)**

**Warning: This chapter contains ****adult/dark themes, some ****violence and mentions of blood.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

_**The Enemy**_

The doors before Stella remained shut; whatever lay beyond was her ultimate test. With her father's hand on her left shoulder and her mother's on her right, she was ready to face it. She had been trained all of her life to fight, to kill, to defend herself. Her father, Radius, and her mother, Luna, were both previous victors of the District Games. They knew that they needed to protect their daughter and that one day she would be called to the arena. They needed to bring her up to be strong, capable of defending herself and of killing without remorse.

And now it was her final test.

The wooden doors swung open to reveal Nova, standing in the middle of the room with her shoulder length orange hair and innocence in her eyes. She smiled when Stella entered. "Hey Stella," she greeted.

Stella smiled back at her best friend before feeling a handle pressing past her fingers and into her right hand. She looked down to see a three pointed sai, its sharp blades shining in the light. The smile faded instantly and Nova eyed the knife herself before her eyes flicked back to her friends.

"Your final test," Luna spoke, watching Nova's own smile slightly disappear and her eyes panic, "is to learn to kill even those closest to you. The arena holds no happiness, no friendship, no love. Everyone inside that arena is your enemy and they must be eliminated."

Nova's shoulders shook and quaked as she ran for it to the door on her right, desperately trying to break through it. The one behind them snapped shut with a bang, a wave from Luna's hand locking it from the outside.

"Stella?" Nova pleaded, leaning against the wall with her back as the sun fairy took her first step forwards, her knuckles white from the grip on the golden handle. She tried to will her magic to her fingertips but nothing was working, it was as if she was frozen with shock. "Stella, please, we're friends."

"There are no friends in the arena."

"That's right, Stella," Radius urged, "kill her, kill her now!"

* * *

Stella was seven when she first met Nova. Her parents had been walking through town to the local markets to buy fresh produce. Both of them had their pick of whatever they wanted, being victors at least granted them that privilege. They selected their groceries and were about to leave when Stella saw her sitting on the curb, a new hat of some sort in her hands covered with mud.

Tears streamed down her face and Luna and Radius walked towards her, using a spell to wipe every trace of dirt from its surface. "Thank you," she smiled, looking up at their kind faces. "It's my mother's hat; she gave it to me to wear for the day but told me to promise not to get it dirty."

"You're welcome," Luna replied, her face beaming with untainted happiness. "What's your name sweetie?"

"Nova," she answered.

"Well Nova, our Stella has been looking for a new friend." It was true; with both of her parents being victors the chances of Stella finding a friend was difficult. Parents purposely used to tell others to keep away from her, should they also be pulled into the arena because of their affiliation with the family. But Nova was a kind hearted soul who didn't shy away from the young blonde and she nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Excellent, how about you come by our palace tomorrow for a little play date."

"Sure!" Nova beamed before standing to leave.

Radius looked to Luna and she did the same to him, both of them holding a silent agreement. Stella looked between them and wondered what they were thinking before they took a hold of her hands and made their way back home.

The palace itself was immaculate and left abandoned by the previous king and queen. Radius's father had passed away a long time but abandoned the castle into his care soon after the Ancestral Witches started their reign. After they lost the battle with the others and Sparx had fallen, there was no use for it. But Radius inherited the building and still lived there with his family, much to their people's dismay. They knew they would never have a true leader again as long as the witches were the ones pulling all the strings, and decrees became nothing more than burnt piles of ash, the library books permanently removed of their history so their children never knew a time without the Ancestresses in power. They never knew of a past where there was freedom, where the realms lived apart from one another and weren't designed by numbers.

The Palace itself also worked as the city's main power supply and outsourcer of solar energy. Its outer walls were covered with panels to try and capture as much energy as they could to be shipped away to Magix for collection. Not meeting the quota meant their end and, after agreeing with the Ancestral Witches for a change, a powerful spell was cast on their district to keep the sun shining twenty four hours a day in order to reach the required quota, and that was only just the beginning.

* * *

Reaching the doors Radius quickly led Stella into one of the largest ballrooms where a series of training dummies made of straw were placed around her, some with targets on their bodies, others with targets on their heads. Luna took a suitcase from the right and opened it, revealing a pair of twin three pointed sai's. Radius lifted one into his hand and threw it across the room until it landed smack bang in the centre of the target. He took the other and gave it to Stella, who found it heavier to hold in her childish hand.

"Throw it and hit the target, you will not leave this room until each and every target has been hit by the sai. We will be watching." Radius waved his own hand and a series of twenty identical sai's appeared, ready for throwing. Stella tried to throw the first one but it missed and landed on the floor, another throw at the same target and it hit the straw but missed the target.

Stella took a step forwards to try and make it easier for herself when Luna snapped. "Step back!" She commanded, pointing to the floor. There was a long white line. "You need to throw from here."

"But mother, some of those targets are at the other end of the hall."

"Do as your father said, hit all of the targets but stay behind the line."

Hundreds of failed attempts and hundreds of near misses' later Stella's arms were numb. She couldn't lift them any further. They were exhausted, her body ached and she had no idea how they expected her to throw and hit the last target at the other side of the hall. It was impossible from her position. The target itself looked like a round dot amongst the others. "I can't do it," she sighed, her will, body and mind all defeated. Radius took her shoulders in his rough hands and squeezed tightly until it hurt, kneeling in front of her face as Luna watched from above.

"There is no 'can't' in the arena."

"But I can't do it! It's too far away! My arms hurt!"

"The arena doesn't care about that; all the arena cares about is seeing you dead. Do you know why we are pushing you so hard, why we are pushing you like this? Hmm? It's for your own good Stella; it's for your own protection. One day, when you are old enough, you will be called into the arena to fight and when you do we want you to be prepared." He stood to his full height, releasing her shoulders as he went. "Now, throw the sai!"

Stella held it with two hands and lifted it behind her head to try and create some form of leverage before pulling her hands forwards and releasing the blade. It skidded along the floor once more and Radius was furious. He grasped her forearm and pulled her along to her room, tears streaming from her eyes as she cried. "You're hurting me!"

"It's for your own good Stella," he reiterated before reaching her room and pushing her to the floor. She landed in an exhausted heap and looked up just in time to see him slam the door.

* * *

Ten years later Stella and Nova walked through the city streets after enjoying some light lunch. They discussed the usual topics, shopping and the hunger games quickly approaching until another topic entered their minds. "Hey Nova," Stella smiled, leaning closer to her friend as they took a seat on the bench. "You've got an admirer." Nova went to turn her head but Stella stopped her with a quick hand on her arm. "Don't look."

"What does he look like?" Nova asked and Stella leant back to look at him. He smiled a little and inclined his head to say hello. "Cute, dark hair, short cut, nice green eyes too, good build not too skinny or too muscular."

"What should I do?" she asked when Stella got off the bench.

"Leave it to me," she smiled walking towards him.

"Wait! No!" She whispered after her but when Stella was determined to get her way she got what she wanted. Nova's head found her hands as she waited for a moment, hearing the odd conversation and laugh occurring behind her. She lifted her head and snuck a finger away from her eye so she could see his friendly smile. Her cheeks involuntarily blushed as he looked her way and she quickly retreated and looked to the floor.

Stella returned, satisfied with a job well done. "His name is Darren; you have a date with him tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow!" She shrieked.

"Yes but don't worry," Stella reassured, "we'll get you some awesome clothes so you look fabulous and I'll do your make-up and hair. It will be amazing!" Or at least that's what she thought it would be.

* * *

Stella's heels padded loudly against the concrete path before she reached the restaurant where Nova and Darren had their date. Nova sat outside at one of the tables, a holding a napkin to her eyes as her shoulders shook. Stella sat across from her and took her hand in hers. "Hey, what happened?"

"Darren, he, everything was fine until this other girl showed up…" she paused, her sobs preventing words. "t-then h-h-he introduced her as his girlfriend."

"That cheating bastard!" Stella swore, her right hand clenching under the table uncontrollably. She noticed a spilt drink over her friends beautiful dress and assumed that the bitch had been the culprit. "It's going to be okay, I'll fix this."

"W-what do you mean? Fix what? It was our first time going out, what did I expect? He was probably just playing a joke or something. Everyone knows you're more beautiful than I am."

"Don't talk like that, everyone is beautiful in their own way," Stella reassured, her left thumb rubbing circles on her friends hand as Nova dropped her napkin to reveal her mascara. "He doesn't deserve your tears." But he did deserve something else and Stella knew exactly what it was.

"Maybe I shouldn't worry about dating… this has been the third guy you've set me up with and none of them were interested, not a single one." She had only told the truth. Stella had tried to find her someone to love because Stella loved her personality and wanted it to be shared with others. Nova had been the only one to stand by her side, other than her parents who technically had to. Nova had been there for her since the beginning, they had been the one guest to each other's birthday parties, been each other's shopping and make-up buddies, had both attended school and hung out together, took all the same classes and became the best of friends.

And see her friend cry and doubt her beautiful spirit, doubt whether she was who Stella always knew her to be, that broke her heart. "Go home and try to get some rest. Have a shower and relax. I will see you later. Everything will be okay."

* * *

The next day Stella stood in the same hall, the blades set out on the tables to her right and left hand sides, ready to go. Luna held a stop watch in her hand, ready to start timing the moment Stella picked up one of the blades. "Go!" Radius ordered and she was off.

She grasped one blade in each hand and made light work of the closest targets by throwing them both at the same time. They landed in the middle with a bang and she reloaded before doing the same to the others. Over and over again, each throw going further and further away but hitting dead centre until there was just one more left, the same one at the very end of the hall that she hadn't been able to reach until her arms and her skills had developed enough. She took the blade in her right hand and threw it forwards. Not only did it hit the target but it forced it through the dummies head and pinned it to the back wall, leaving the straw dummies head like an oversized donut.

The timer stopped, "fourteen seconds," Luna announced, "you cut down another second from your previous time but there is always room for improvement."

"Of course there is," Stella rolled her eyes; they were never satisfied with her progress. Her phone rang and she answered it, seeing Nova's picture next to a text message. "Hey, I'm outside, can we talk?"

"I've got to go, its Nova," Stella explained before exiting the room and letting her in through the main doors. The two hugged before ending up in Stella's bedroom.

"Here, I got this fixed for you," Stella smiled, pulling out the dress that had been terribly ruined before. It was beautiful, clean and looked brand new. Nova smiled before taking the material into her hands and admiring it in her lap. "Thank you," she replied.

"You're welcome."

"You know what's weird? There was this notice in the paper saying that he's missing. No one has any idea where he went, not even his girlfriend."

"That is strange," Stella replied, remembering the day she went to his house during the evening hours of their eternal sunshine to surprise him.

"You said that you'd fix things…you didn't?"

"No," Stella shook her head. "I didn't do anything, as much as he deserved it for breaking your heart and making a mockery of you in front of the other restaurant guests."

"Well he's gone now, so I suppose that's something at least," Nova sighed, "though I wasn't fond of the guy I hope they find him soon."

"Yeah but," Stella smiled, "maybe he's in a better place."

* * *

And all of that friendship and all of those years together had lead them to this life changing moment. There she stood, sai in hand, her defenceless friend bracing herself before her, tears staining her cheeks and rolling from her eyes. If she did this then it was all over, her training was complete, and she was free. She raised the blade between her fingertips, spinning it a couple of times for good measure before grasping the handle and bringing it over her shoulder, elbow pointed at her target. Her parents were right, there were no friends in the arena, there was no place for remorse or guilt, you just had to act, to kill, and worry about the consequences later. You needed to put all emotion aside and focus on the task at hand, make a good show for the cameras, prove yourself worthy of sponsorship and favouritism and, most importantly, survive.

The sai flew through the air and hit a quivering Nova straight between the eyes. Her body instantly relaxed and she slid down the door, a trail of red staining the white paint and pooling at the floor.

"Congratulations, Stella," Radius spoke though her eyes didn't leave her best friends face, now covered with crimson blood, "your training is complete."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading and please review :)**


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